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My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
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
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Hope
Dough
Feast
Cake
Eating
Among
Rest
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Words are easy, like the wind Faithful friends are hard to find.
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Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
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Pray, love, remember: and there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
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To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself. Fear, and be slain--so worse can come to fight And fight and die is death destroying death, Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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Blind fear, that seeing reason leads, finds safer footing than blind reason stumbling without fear: to fear the worst oft cures the worse.
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Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion!
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We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
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For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
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The time is out of joint.
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We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.
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Let us kill all lawyers
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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