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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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
Makes
Dread
Others
Bear
Country
Bears
Something
Speech
Life
Whose
Ills
Return
Traveller
Rather
Puzzles
Death
Returns
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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger
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He was met even now As mad as the vex'd sea singing aloud Crown'd with rank fumiter and furrow-weeds, With bur-docks, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-flowers, Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow In our sustaining corn.
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Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue hypocrite takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
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Thou art a very ragged Wart.
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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Fairies use flowers for their charactery.
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There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.
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Allow not nature more than nature needs.
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No matter where of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
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Do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation.
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My stars shine darkly over me
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I am not in the giving vein today.
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O, what a world of vile ill-favored faults, looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!
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