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Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
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
Love
Colour
Prefer
Fairs
Silvia
Fair
Commending
Charity
Corrupted
Access
Fairness
Holy
Worthless
True
Gifts
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One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.
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There live not three good men unhanged in England and one of them is fat and grows old.
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Neither my place, nor aught I heard of business, Hath raised me from my bed nor doth the general care Take hold on me for my particular grief Is of so floodgate and o'erbearing nature That it engluts and swallows other sorrows, And it is still itself.
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Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come make her laugh at that.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
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Make me a willow cabin at your gate, And call upon my soul within the house Write loyal cantons of contemned love And sing them loud even in the dead of night.
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
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Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book, To seek the light of truth, which truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.
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A goodly portly man, i' faith, and a corpulent of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and a most noble carriage and, as I think, his age some fifty, or, by'r Lady, inclining to threescore and now I remember me, his name is Falstaff.
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I have trod a measure, I have flattered a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy.
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How every fool can play upon the word!
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Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.
William Shakespeare
Let them obey that knows not how to rule.
William Shakespeare
For to be wise and love exceeds man's might.
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Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
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And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.
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So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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Sycorax has grown into a hoop
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