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I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise.

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
Otherwise
Emotional
Emotion
Desdemona
Feelings
Beguile
Thing
Merriment
Seeming
Merry
Memorable

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I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
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Be like you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together
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And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot And thereby hangs a tale.
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What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just.
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He that loves to be flattered is worthy o' the flatterer.
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But miserable most, to love unloved? This you should pity rather than despise
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Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.
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The time is out of joint.
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Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises and oft it hits where hope is coldest, and despair most fits.
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Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight
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No particular scandal one can touch but it confounds the breather.
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And my poor fool is hanged! No, no, no life! Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more, Never, Never, Never, Never, Never! Pray you, undo this button.
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Here I and sorrows sit Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
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Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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The cunning livery of hell.
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To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.
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