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Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime...
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
Art
Glass
Back
Calls
Prime
Glasses
Lovely
Thou
Thee
Mother
April
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For 'tis the sport to have the engineerHoist with his own petard.
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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Eternity was in our lips and eyes.
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Good company, good wine, good welcome, can make good people.
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This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
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Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
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My soul is in the sky.
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He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
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All offences come from the heart.
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We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
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Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so And, being done, thus Wall away doth go.
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I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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Flout 'em, and scout 'em and scout 'em, and flout 'em / Thought is free.
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Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
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So all my best is dressing old words new.
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Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies
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