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Lovers ever run before the clock

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
Clock
Lovers
Running
Ever
Love

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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
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What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?
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But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?
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A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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A scar nobly got is a good livery of honor.
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
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Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.
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Nor age so eat up my invention.
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My business was great, and in such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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It is the very error of the moon She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, And makes men mad.
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Who is Silvia What is she, That all our swains commend her Holy, fair, and wise is she.
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Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?
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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?
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This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler and retails his wares.
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
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How wayward is this foolish love that, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse and presently, all humble, kiss the rod.
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I prithee gentle friend, Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passions, sway In this uncivil and unjust extent Against thy peace.
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