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What fates impose, that men must needs abide it boots not to resist both wind and tide.
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
Needs
Tide
Men
Impose
Tides
Resist
Boots
Fate
Wind
Fates
Must
Abide
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I have drunk and seen the spider.
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O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross.
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Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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O world, world! thus is the poor agent despised. O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our endeavor be so loved, and the performance so loathed?
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Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis offer'd, Shall never find it more.
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There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
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Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.
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No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck So many blows upon this face of mine And made no deeper wounds?
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Exit, pursued by a bear.
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What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail, And say there is no sin but to be rich And being rich, my virtue then shall be To say there is no vice but beggary
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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They say best men are molded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad
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So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
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All the world's a stage, and all the men and women mearly players.
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