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For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.
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
Sorrow
Ends
Done
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On Rumor's tongue continual slanders ride.
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He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.
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Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue.
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The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.
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Ignorance is the curse of God knowledge is the wing wherewith we fly to heaven.
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What is past is prologue.
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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
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Neither a borrower nor a lender be.
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
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A harmless necessary cat.
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I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
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O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
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Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
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I am never merry when I hear sweet music.
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Tired with all these for restful death I cry, As to behold desert a beggar born, And needy nothing trimmed in jollity, And purest faith unhappily forsworn.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
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