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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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
Great
Stake
Greatly
Stakes
Straw
Honour
Straws
Integrity
Quarrel
Argument
Stir
Find
Rightly
Without
Quarrels
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Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
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When the sea was calm all ships alike showed mastership in floating.
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Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.
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The best is yet to come.
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I am bewitched with the rogue's company. If the rascal have not given me medicines to make me love him, I'll be hanged.
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Thou lump of foul deformity!
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Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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Why, thou knowest I am as valiant as Hercules, but beware instinct. The lion will not touch the true prince. Instinct is a great matter. I was a coward on instinct.
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This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad.
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Life's uncertain voyage.
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Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
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And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot And thereby hangs a tale.
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O sleep! O gentle sleep! Nature's soft nurse.
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We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
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Those that do teach young babes Do it with gentle means and easy tasks.
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This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long
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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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