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Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
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
Together
Heart
Alters
Love
Complexion
Affliction
Bond
Fresh
Prosperity
Whose
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
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Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
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I am a kind of burr I shall stick.
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So shalt thou feed on Death, that feeds on men.
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Women may fail when there is no strength in man
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Exit, pursued by a bear.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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Flesh and blood, You, brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, Expell'd remorse and nature, who, with Sebastian- Whose inward pinches therefore are most strong- Would here have kill'd your king, I do forgive thee, Unnatural though thou art.
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
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If't be summer news, Smile to't before if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
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Good luck lies in odd numbers.
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She is your treasure, she must have a husband I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
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What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
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The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.
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Words without thoughts never to heaven go.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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Gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.
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