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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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
Delight
Pain
Inherit
Delights
Doth
Vain
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I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I will die a woman with grieving.
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I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests but now I'll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me.
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Highly fed and lowly taught.
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I have more care to stay than will to go.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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That god forbid, that made me first your slave, I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave, Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
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In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
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You know who you are, but know not who you could be.
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O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the Devil!
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age wretched in both.
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All hoods make not monks.
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That island of England breeds very valiant creatures their mastiffs are of unmatchable courage.
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Let us our lives, our souls, Our debts, our careful wives, Our children, and our sins, lay on the King!
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He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
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The benediction of these covering heavens Fall on their heads like dew, for they are worthy To inlay heaven with stars.
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Not a whit, we defy augury: there's a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come if it be not to come, it will be now if it be not now, yet it will come: the readiness is all.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf.
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Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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