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On pain of death, no person be so bold.

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
Pain
Death
Persons
Person
Bold

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O serpent heart hid with a flowering face! Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave? Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly seemest - A dammed saint, an honourable villain!
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Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
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Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
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There was never yet fair woman but she made mouths in a glass.
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All's well if all ends well.
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To be merry best becomes you for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
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She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd, And I lov'd her that she did pity them
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Gold were as good as twenty orators.
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I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.
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Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
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I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath Who shuns not to break one will sure crack both.
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Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor, dream as I have done Wake, and find nothing.
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Well, God's above all and there be souls must be saved, and there be souls must not be saved.
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When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?
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It is a good divine that follows his own instructions.
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Let never day nor night unhallowed pass, but still remember what the Lord hath done.
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Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
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Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion
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For in the fatness of these pursy times Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg.
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Let the galled jade wince our withers are unwrung.
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