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Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
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
Procrastinate
Procrastinating
Doth
Helpless
Hopeless
Chaos
Ends
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Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
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This cold night will turn us all to fools and madmen.
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Good luck lies in odd numbers.
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Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
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Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
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To saucy doubts and fears.
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The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth
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Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.
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It is a basilisk unto mine eye, Kills me to look on't.
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And she's fair I love.
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I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.
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When a father gives to his son, both laugh when a son gives to his father, both cry.
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Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands. Curtsied when you have and kissed The wild waves whist, Foot is featly here and there And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. Ariel's song, scene II, Act I
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I have been long a sleeper but I trust My absence doth neglect no great design Which by my presence might have been concluded.
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Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
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