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Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir.
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
Death
Heir
Heirs
Juliet
Son
Law
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
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There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats, For I am armed so strong in honesty That they pass by me as the idle wind
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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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Slanders, sir, for the satirical rogue says here that old men have grey beards, that their faces are wrinkled, their eyes purging think amber and plum-tree gum, and that they have a plentiful lack of wit, together with most weak hams.
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All pride is willing pride.
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He took the bride about the neck and kissed her lips with such a clamorous smack that at the parting all the church did echo.
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Patch up thine old body for heaven.
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For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.
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In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. - Romeo -
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Then imitate the action of the tiger stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
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Crowns have their compass-length of days their date- Triumphs their tomb-felicity, her fate- Of nought but earth can earth make us partaker, But knowledge makes a king most like his Maker.
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I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
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A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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So our virtues lie in the interpretation of the time
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
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A flock of blessings light upon thy back
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