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So they loved as love in twain Had the essence but in one Two distinct, divisions none.
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
Loved
Two
Love
Twain
Divisions
Distinct
Division
None
Essence
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Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty.
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My desolation does begin to make A better life.
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I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
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There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.
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For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
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O constancy, be strong upon my side, Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue! I have a man's mind, but a woman's might.
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Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.
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A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
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For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
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All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
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When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
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Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
William Shakespeare
