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And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
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
Mortal
Mortals
Suffer
Worshippers
Thou
Griefs
Grief
Idol
Suffering
Ceremony
Art
Kind
Idols
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And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
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I'll have no husband, if you be not he.
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I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.
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And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence
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Love is heavy and light, bright and dark, hot and cold, sick and healthy, asleep and awake- its everything except what it is! (Act 1, scene 1)
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When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
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The crown o' the earth doth melt. My lord! O, wither'd is the garland of the war, The soldier's pole is fall'n: young boys and girls Are level now with men the odds is gone, And there is nothing left remarkable Beneath the visiting moon.
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To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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For what I will, I will, and there an end.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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Free from gross passion or of mirth of anger constant spirit, not swerving with the blood, garnish'd and deck'd in modest compliment, not working with the eye without the ear, and but in purged judgement trusting neither? Such and so finely bolted didst thou seem.
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How long a time lies in one little word?
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
William Shakespeare
'Tis not to make me jealous To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company, Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well Where virtue is, these are more virtuous.
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A table-full of welcome!
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I have thrust myself into this maze, Haply to wive and thrive as best I may.
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Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
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