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The moon shines bright. In such a night as this. When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees and they did make no noise, in such a night.
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
Wind
Bright
Tree
Kiss
Night
Trees
Make
Noise
Shining
Kissing
Merchants
Moon
Gently
Sweet
Shines
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To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master And cried, 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm.
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I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
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Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
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Let's teach ourselves that honorable stop, Not to outsport discretion.
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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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And be these juggling friends no more believ'd, That palter with us in a double sense That keep the word of promise to our ear And break it to our hope.
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Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
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England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune.
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Let each man do his best.
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I do desire we may be better strangers.
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Had it pleas'd heaven To try me with affliction * * * I should have found in some place of my soul A drop of patience.
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O, full of scorpions is my mind!
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Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania
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The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
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Be as just and gracious unto me, As I am confident and kind to thee.
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Tis an ill cook that cannot lick his own fingers.
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Tush! Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate Talkers are no good doers: be assured We come to use our hands and not our tongues.
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Our thoughts are ours, their ends none of our own
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This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
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