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O mischief, thou art swift to enter in the thoughts of desperate men!
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
Swift
Men
Mischief
Tempted
Desperate
Temptation
Enter
Thou
Thoughts
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A very honest woman but something given to lie
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, We bid be quiet when we hear it cry But were we burdened with light weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain.
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment.
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Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The seasons' difference, as the icy fang And churlish chiding of the winter's wind, Which, when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile.
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The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, which hurts and is desired.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
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Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
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Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.
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What thing, in honor, had my father lost, That need to be revived and breathed in me?
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On a day - alack the day! - Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air
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Dreams are the children of idled minds.
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Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.
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Double, double, toil and trouble Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
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