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Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer's lease hath all too short a date . . .
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
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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
Art
Thou
Winds
May
Thee
Shake
Summer
Shakes
Temperate
Poet
Hath
Buds
Short
Date
Lease
Poetry
Rough
Sonnet
Wind
Compare
Bud
Shall
Lovely
Darling
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I profess not talking: only this, Let each man do his best.
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The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
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He is not worthy of the honey-comb, that shuns the hives because the bees have stings.
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Press not a falling man too far 'tis virtue: His faults lie open to the laws let them, Not you, correct him.
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The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good.
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Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
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Rebellion in this land shall lose his sway, meeting the check of such another day.
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Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun, and with him rise weeping.
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The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order.
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So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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After your death you were better have a bad epitaph than their ill report while you live.
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How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
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A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.
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All pride is willing pride.
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I have not slept one wink.
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The weakest goes to the wall.
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I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
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Charity itself fulfills the law. And who can sever love from charity?
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
William Shakespeare
