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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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
Freedom
Else
Ends
Nothing
Journeyman
Boast
Grief
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While thou livest keep a good tongue in thy head.
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When the mind's free, The Body's delicate.
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I would with such perfection govern, sir, T'excel the golden age.
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From you have I been absent in the spring, When proud pied April, dressed in all his trim, Hath put a spirit of youth in every thing.
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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The weakest goes to the wall.
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Through tattered clothes great vices do appear Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
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You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall with our English dead.
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Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity In least speak most, to my capacity.
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Like one who draws the model of a house beyond his power to build it who, half through, gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost a naked subject to the weeping clouds.
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a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
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Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts.
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A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
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Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.
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