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He says, he loves my daughter I think so too for never gaz'd the moon Upon the water, as he'll stand and read, As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, I think, there is not half a kiss to choose, Who loves another best.
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
Never
Eyes
Kiss
Think
Half
Kissing
Thinking
Upon
Loves
Eye
Daughter
Water
Moon
Read
Choose
Another
Says
Twere
Best
Stand
Plain
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For now they kill me with a living death.
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.
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Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars That make ambition virtue.
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There is plenty of time to sleep in the grave
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I would fain die a dry death.
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At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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Love is merely a madness.
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Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
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I pray thee cease thy counsel, Which falls into mine ears as profitless as water in a sieve.
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Comets importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars.
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I'll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew.
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He that filches from me my good name robs me of that which enriches him and makes me poor indeed.
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The very instant I saw you, did My heart fly to your service there resides To make me slave to it. ...mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want.
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They love least that let men know their loves.
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear To stop the air would hurt them.
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Violent fires soon burn out themselves, small showers last long, but sudden storms are short he tires betimes that spurs too fast.
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Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lender's books, and defy the foul fiend.
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The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
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