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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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
Seek
Open
Gate
Soul
Flies
Gracious
Gates
Wounds
Mercy
Thee
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Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe
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And by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
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Would I were dead, if God's good will were so, For what is in this world but grief and woe?
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A woman's thought runs before her actions.
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Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!
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They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?
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A man I am cross'd with adversity.
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Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
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Love`s reason`s without reason
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Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
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Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
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Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
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Tempt not a desperate man
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It is the purpose that makes strong the vow But vows to every purpose must not hold.
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I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
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For grief is crowned with consolation.
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Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
William Shakespeare
