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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
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
False
Sorrow
Office
Show
Easy
Shows
Doe
Unfelt
Men
Hypocrisy
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Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
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Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
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Take but degree away, untune that string, and hark, what discord follows!
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I am a man more sinned against than sinning
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Fortune is painted blind, with a muffler afore her eyes, to signify to you that Fortune is blind.
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My love is deep the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
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Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
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A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
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Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all, all shall die.
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For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.
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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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All surfeit is the father of much fast.
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Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.
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Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil. Are empty trunks o'erflourished by the devil.
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Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
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For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
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O world, how apt the poor are to be proud!
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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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Ay, but hearken, sir though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals, and would fain have meat.
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Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
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