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Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
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
Sung
Sweet
Queen
Makes
Queens
Love
Division
Bower
Highly
Ravishing
Fairs
Lute
Tongue
Penn
Fair
Welsh
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None can cure their harms by wailing them.
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My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
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There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
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Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.
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It is a wise father that knows his own child.
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Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
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I am declined Into the vale of years.
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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.
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What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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One sin another doth provoke.
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He makes a July's day short as December.
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The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.
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He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
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He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
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Flout 'em, and scout 'em and scout 'em, and flout 'em / Thought is free.
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I almost die for food, and let me have it!
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The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
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