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You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age wretched in both.

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
Men
Lear
Wretched
Gods
Grief
Full
Age
Poor

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Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
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There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
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Heaven is above all yet there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
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For they are yet ear-kissing arguments.
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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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Get thee to a nunnery.
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Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Malvolio: Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Feste: But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.
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A very little thief of occasion will rob you of a great deal of patience.
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Haply a woman's voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on.
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They are hare-brain'd slaves.
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Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
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There is nothing serious in Mortality
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For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.
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The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
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And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!
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Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
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The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
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Temptation is the fire that brings up the scum of the heart.
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Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!
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I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s.
William Shakespeare