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But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
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
Wind
Came
Water
Swaggering
Every
Alas
Never
Thrive
Hey
Rivers
Rain
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And oftentimes excusing of a fault doth make the fault the worse by the excuse.
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The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
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Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.
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What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?
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Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
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My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.
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In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
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He kills her in her own humor.
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I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
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What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
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I pray you, in your letters, When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, Speak of me as I am nothing extenuate, Nor set down aught in malice. Then must you speak Of one that loved not wisely but too well Of one not easily jealous, but being wrought, Perplexed in the extreme. . .
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Old fashions please me best I am not so nice To change true rules for odd inventions.
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O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
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The cunning livery of hell.
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