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Making night hideous.

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
Hideous
Making
Night

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I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.
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You have witchcraft in your lips
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Determine on some course more than a wild exposure to each chance.
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By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.
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Then others for breath of words respect, Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.
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If I profane with my unworthiest hand This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this: My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.
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To be merry best becomes you for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour.
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Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own!
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But men are men the best sometimes forget.
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Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
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There's no trust, No faith, no honesty in men all perjured, All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.
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O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
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