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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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
Growth
Outgrown
Lord
Weeds
Prince
Idle
Weed
Hath
Fast
Brother
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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
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See where she comes apparelled like the spring.
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Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
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This is the very ecstasy of love.
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The hideous god of war.
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I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
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What must be shall be.
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Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
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My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
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How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
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Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man, after his studies or his usual pain?
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He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
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Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls Conscience is but a work that cowards use, Devised at first to keep the strong in awe: Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law!
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So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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