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And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.

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
Swerve
Swallowed
Oblivion
Blind
Cities
Upbraid

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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
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Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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As good luck would have it, comes in one Mistress Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach, and in her invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they conveyed me into a buck-basket.
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The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
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Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
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When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me wouldst give me Water with berries in't and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
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An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.
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Thieves for their robbery have authority When judges steal themselves.
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
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I am giddy, expectation whirls me round. The imaginary relish is so sweet That it enchants my sense.
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Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.
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So quick bright things come to confusion.
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
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When faced with a sea of troubles, take action, and in so doing end it.
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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
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