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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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
Become
Falstaff
Jester
Hairs
Ill
Fool
Hair
White
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Tremble, thou wretch, That hast within thee undivulged crimes Unwhipped of justice.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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What, can the devil speak true?
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Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes.
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This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
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Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
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Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
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Thou lump of foul deformity!
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I bear a charmed life.
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Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful
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Give me my robe, put on my crown I have Immortal longings in me.
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O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
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Every subject's duty is the Kings, but every subject's soul is his own.
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For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
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The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
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