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O heaven! were man, But constant, he were perfect.
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
Inconstancy
Constancy
Constant
Heaven
Perfect
Men
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I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.
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Talking isn't doing. It is a kind of good deed to say well and yet words are not deeds.
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Time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arm outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer.
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What a deformed thief this fashion is.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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Wisely, and slow. They stumble that run fast.
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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Patch up thine old body for heaven.
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
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We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.
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They love least that let men know their loves.
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A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk, will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
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Neither a borrower nor a lender be.
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The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase The dove pursues the griffin the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
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Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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