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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.

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
Small
Serves
Call
Cover
Upon
Model
Death
Bones
Tell
Ground
Stories
Models
Earth
Sake
Paste
Nothing
Kings
Barren

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They say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony Where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.
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Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones Who, though they cannot answer my distress, Yet in some sort they are better than the tribunes, For that they will not intercept my tale: When I do weep, they humbly at my feet Receive my tears and seem to weep with me And, were they but attired in grave weeds, Rome could afford no tribune like to these.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.
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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.
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