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Rest you fair, good signior Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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
Rest
Lasts
Last
Good
Fairness
Men
Fairs
Fair
Mouths
Worship
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Stones have been known to move and trees to speak.
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To beguile the time, look like the time.
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If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her, she would infect to the north star!
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For honesty coupled to beauty, is to have honey a sauce to sugar.
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My soul is in the sky.
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A ministering angel shall my sister be.
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She's gone. I am abused, and my relief must be to loathe her.
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure let us be jocund
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Woe to that land that's governed by a child.
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An two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.
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Assume a virtue, if you have it not. That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat Of habits devil, is angel yet in this.
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France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
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So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
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All things that we ordained festival Turn from their office to black funeral-- Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse And all things change them to the contrary.
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Patch up thine old body for heaven.
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Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful
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Report me and my cause aright.
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O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
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What infinite heart's-ease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy! And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
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Glory is like a circle in the water, which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, till, by broad spreading, it disperse to naught.
William Shakespeare
