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Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand.
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
Divine
Hand
Hands
Self
Prohibition
Slaughter
Suicide
Weak
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
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Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
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All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
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Sweetest nut hath sourest rind.
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Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies
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Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
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ROSENCRANTZ My lord, you must tell us where the body is, and go with us to the king. HAMLET The body is with the king, but the king is not with the body. The king is a thing - GUILDENSTERN A thing my lord? HAMLET Of nothing. Bring me to him. Hide fox, and all after!
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There's place and means for every man alive.
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Pause awhile, And let my counsel sway you.
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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!
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The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure.
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He that sleeps feels not the tooth-ache
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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Thou art a very ragged Wart.
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