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Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
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
Lives
Sour
Keep
Doth
Music
Wasted
Men
Proportion
Time
Broke
Kept
Waste
Sweet
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For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.
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How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept!
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The Dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service Are they inform'd of this?
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I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.
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O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure let us be jocund
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Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
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As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
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Set we forward let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march, And in the temple of the great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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