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How now, wit! Whither wander you?
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
Wit
Wander
Spirit
Whither
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Glory is like a circle in the water
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Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
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I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.
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This above all to thine own self be true.
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Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded.
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I wonder that you will still be talking. Nobody marks you.
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So fair and foul a day i had not seen.
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Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor.
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And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags.
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
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A heaven on earth I have won by wooing thee.
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The seasons change their manners, as the year Had found some months asleep and leapt them over.
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Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
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Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
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Sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
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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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Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good, but graciously to know I am no better.
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A harmless necessary cat.
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