Quote

Romeo: Courage, man the hurt cannot be much. Mercutio: No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a church-door but 'tis enough, 'twill serve. Ask for me tomorrow, and you shall find me a grave man.

William Shakespeare

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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
Men
Asks
Wide
Church
Door
Cannot
Doors
Tybalt
Find
Deep
Twill
Wells
Courage
Romeo
Well
Tomorrow
Grave
Enough
Shall
Graves
Much
Hurt
Serve

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Conceal me what I am, and be my aid for such disguise as haply shall become the form of my intent.
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But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, Lives not alone immured in the brain But, with the motion of all elements, Courses as swift as thought in every power, And gives to every power a double power, Above their functions and their offices.
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My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things.
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Make the doors upon a woman's wit, and it will out at the casement shut that, and 'twill out at the key-hole stop that, 'twill fly with the smoke out at the chimney.
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Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
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The Eyes are the window to your soul
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When remedies are past, the griefs are ended By seeing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
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When Caesar says, 'Do this', it is performed.
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Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy.
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And when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And asleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me must be heard of, say, I taught thee.
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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Say, thou art mine and ever, My love, as it begins, shall so persevere
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Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice And could of men distinguish her election, Sh'ath sealed thee for herself.
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Best men oft are moulded out of faults.
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We will draw the curtain and show you the picture.
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Be great in act, as you have been in thought.
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And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
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Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
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