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Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.
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
Looks
Woe
Pardon
Nurse
Mercy
Second
Stills
Still
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Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.
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And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
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A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
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All is well ended if this suit be won. That you express content which we will pay, With strife to please you, day exceeding day.
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Holy, fair, and wise is she The heaven such grace did lend her, That she might admired be.
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My desolation does begin to make A better life.
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He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye
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Boldness be my friend.
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We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh few are angels.
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All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
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The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover, Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank, Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burrs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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Until I know this sure uncertainty, I'll entertain the offered fallacy.
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