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Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, That sees into the bottom of my grief?
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
Juliet
Suffering
Grieving
Sees
Pity
Clouds
Grief
Bottom
Sitting
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As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
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Things past redress are now with me past care
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They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.
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In the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
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If I can catch him once upon the hip, I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him.
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A contract of eternal bond of love, Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, Arrested by the holy close of lips, Strength'ned by the interchangement of your rings, And all the ceremony of this compact Seal'd in my function, by my testimony.
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Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.
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It hurts not the tongue to give fair words.
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He wears the rose Of youth upon him.
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