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I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love.
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
Hand
Distrust
Open
Cowardice
Hands
Hath
Heart
Sign
Love
Noble
Hold
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I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
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Murder most foul, as in the best it it But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
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Such tricks hath strong imagination, That, if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live.
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Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's.
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No worse a husband than the best of men.
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I wish you all the joy that you can wish.
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Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
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Lord, Lord, how subject we old men are to this vice of lying!
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If men could be contented to be what they are, there were no fear in marriage.
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Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
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Some falls the means are happier to rise.
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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A countenance more in sorrow than in anger.
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
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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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A right judgment draws us a profit from all things we see .
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