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The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.
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
Hath
Memorable
Dead
Law
Though
Slept
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Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
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Thou whoreson zed! thou unnecessary letter!
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Rashly, And praised be rashness for it--let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and that should learn us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all!
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Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)
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Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
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thy wit is a very bitter sweeting it is a most sharp sauce.
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What e'er thou art, act well thy part.
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O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!
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Good old grandsire ... we shall be joyful of thy company.
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Heaven - the treasury of everlasting life.
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Sycorax has grown into a hoop
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O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last, And careful hours with Time's deformed hand Have written strange defeatures in my face. But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice?
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And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
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After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.
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We have seen better days.
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I had as lief have been myself alone.
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