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For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!

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
Men
Deepest
Stomach
Surfeit
Ties
Heresies
Hated
Loathing
Brings
Deceive
Thou
Heresy
Leave
Sweetest
Things
Deceiving

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Like the lily That once was mistress of the field and flourished, I'll hang my head and perish.
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Ay, when fowls have no feathers and fish have no fin.
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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning One pain is less'ned by another's anguish Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
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If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
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So full of shapes is fancy That it alone is high fantastical.
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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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Friendship's full of dregs.
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They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.
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Look on beauty, And you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight, Which therein works a miracle in nature, Making them lightest that wear most of it.
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When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
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Some glory in their birth , some in their skill , Some in their wealth , some in their bodies' force , Some in their garments, though new-fangled ill Some in their hawks and hounds , some in their horse And every humor hath his adjunct pleasure , Wherein it finds a joy above the rest .
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The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
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