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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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
Summer
Lodge
Fields
Lodges
Cold
Inheritance
Open
Conquer
Often
Heat
True
France
Winter
Field
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If your mind dislike anything obey it
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If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
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I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
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Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!
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Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.
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O how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes favors! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, that sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, more pangs and fears than wars or women have, and when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, never to hope again.
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Lawn as white as driven snow Cyprus black as e'er was crow Gloves as sweet as damask roses.
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And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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Behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, Breasting the lofty surge
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No particular scandal one can touch but it confounds the breather.
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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You cannot make gross sins look clear: To revenge is no valour, but to bear.
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But virtue never will be mov'd, Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven.
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Thou art a very ragged Wart.
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Even as one heat another heat expels, or as one nail by strength drives out another, so the remembrance of my former love is by a newer object quite forgotten.
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Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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