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Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I ha' lost my reputation, I ha' lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial!

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
Immortal
Reputation
Remains
Lost
Part
Character
Bestial

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To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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Go, write it in a martial hand be curst and brief it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.
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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.
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Though men can cover crimes with bold, stern looks, poor women's faces are their own faults' books.
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One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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You, and your lady, Take from my heart all thankfulness!
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Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.
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How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?
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What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
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O for a horse with wings!
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Be advised Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: we may outrun, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire that mounts the liquor til run o'er, In seeming to augment it wastes it?
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I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.
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They were devils incarnate.
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You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age wretched in both.
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
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