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You must not think That we are made of stuff so fat and dull That we can let our beard be shook with danger And think it pastime.

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
Think
Beard
Thinking
Fats
Dull
Danger
Courage
Stuff
Must
Pastime
Made
Shook

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All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.
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Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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Unless hours were cups of sack, and minutes capons, and clocks the tongues of bawds, and dials the signs of leaping-houses, and the blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame-colored taffeta, I see no reason why thou shouldst be so superfluous to demand the time of the day.
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
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Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
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Let gentleness my strong enforcement be.
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Ne'er ask me what raiment I'll wear, for I have no more doublets than backs, no more stockings than legs, nor no more shoes than feet--nay, sometime more feet than shoes, or such shoes as my toes look through the overleather.
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Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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