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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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
Cooking
Taste
Sweet
Food
Lasts
Sweets
Last
Sweetest
Culinary
Sunset
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This is a way to kill a wife with kindness.
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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
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I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
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thus with a kiss I die
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Tongues I'll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. . . .
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O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
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As for my wife, I would you had her spirit in such another The third o' th' world is yours, which with a snaffle You may pace easy, but not such a wife.
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If there were reason for these miseries, then into limits could I bind my woes. If the winds rages, doth not the sea wax mad, threat'ning the welkin with its big-swoll'n face? And wilt though have a reason for this coil? I am the sea. Hark how her sighs doth blow. She is the weeping welkin, I the earth.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
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I do love nothing in the world so well as you- is not that strange?
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Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty.
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The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows. They are polluted off'rings, more abhorred! Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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Examine well your blood.
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Take all the swift advantage of the hours.
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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With mirth in funeral and with dirge in marriage.
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