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It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding Sweet lovers love the spring.
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
Fields
Rings
Sweet
Lovers
Lass
Pretty
Field
Ding
Time
Pass
Corn
Love
Sing
Ring
Bird
Hey
Green
Lover
Spring
Birds
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O love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy, In measure rain thy joy, scant this excess!
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Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
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Music can minister to minds diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with its sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the full bosom of all perilous stuff that weighs upon the heart.
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To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
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How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!
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Love's mind of judgment rarely hath a taste: Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
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If wishes would prevail with me, my purpose should not fail with me.
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I have no way and therefore want no eyes I stumbled when I saw. Full oft 'tis seen our means secure us, and our mere defects prove our commodities.
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Miracles are ceased and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me I had it from my father.
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Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
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The object of Art is to give life a shape.
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Get thee to a nunnery.
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Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind.
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There is nothing serious in Mortality
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For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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Hear the meaning within the word.
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I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
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