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The force of his own merit makes his way-a gift that heaven gives for him.
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
Giving
Way
Merit
Gift
Gives
Heaven
Force
Makes
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Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.
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I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
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Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But where her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety.
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Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
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You have too much respect upon the world They lose it that do buy it with much care
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For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally.
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Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.
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And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
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The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away.
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After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
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Happy thou art not for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get and what thou hast, forgettest.
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Alas, I am a woman friendless, hopeless!
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Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
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Women's weapons, water-drops.
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what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
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Too much of water hast thou, poor Ophelia, And therefore I forbid my tears: But yet It is our trick nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will: when these are gone, The woman will be out. — Adieu, my lord! I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze, But that this folly drowns it.
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Exit, pursued by a bear.
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Now no way can I stray Save back to England, all the world's my way.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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