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But I will be, A bridegroom in my death, and run into't As to a lover's bed.
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
Bridegroom
Lover
Bed
Lovers
Death
Running
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Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.
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Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.
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Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.
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All fancy-sick she is and pale of cheer, with sighs of love, that costs the fresh blood dear.
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No particular scandal one can touch but it confounds the breather.
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Prosperity's the very bond of love.
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Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast.
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Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
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Fair, kind, and true, have often lived alone.
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My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.
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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.
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Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor
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Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.
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For I am fresh of spirit, and resolved To meet all perils very constantly.
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Full fathom five thy father lies Of his bones are coral made Those are pearls that were his eyes Nothing of him that doth fade, But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell: Ding-dong. Hark! now I hear them — Ding-dong, bell.
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Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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