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I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.
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
Long
Honor
Accompany
Way
Age
Leafs
Time
Friends
Leaf
Love
Fall
Troops
Life
Look
Yellow
Looks
Aging
Enough
Obedience
Must
Lived
Sere
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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Is it possible he should know what he is, and be that he is?
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
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I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
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How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony
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If your mind dislike anything obey it
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The fittest time to corrupt a man's wife is when she's fallen out with her husband.
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
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The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
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The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
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Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
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All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.
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Join not with grief, fair woman, do not so, To make my end too sudden.
William Shakespeare
I feel it gone, yet know not when it left.
William Shakespeare
One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
William Shakespeare