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On a day - alack the day! - Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air
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
Life
Fair
Air
Spied
Whose
Wanton
Months
Blossom
Playing
Month
May
Passings
Ever
Fairs
Love
Passing
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Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
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That in the captains but a choleric word Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.
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One woman is fair, yet I am well another is wise, yet I am well another virtuous, yet I am well but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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Absence from those we love is self from self - a deadly banishment.
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Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain.
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A blind man can't forget the eyesight he lost, show me any beautiful girl. How can her beauty not remind me of the one whose beauty surpasses hers?
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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An old black ram is tupping your white ewe
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They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
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My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
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I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say - I love you
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Having nothing, nothing can he lose.
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Our enemies are our outward consciences.
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