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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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
Loving
Wind
Face
Heaven
Faces
Mother
Roughly
Might
Winds
Visit
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This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.
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She's good, being gone.
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Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
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Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.
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Every man has business and desire, Such as it is.
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No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change.
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I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now.
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Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek a foe.
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Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds.
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The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
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Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.
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Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you.
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You are a tedious fool.
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They are fairies he that speaks to them shall die. I'll wink and couch no man their works must eye.
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, and nick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't it hath made me mad.
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Quote: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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