Quote

May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves.

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
Make
Despair
Beam
Never
Sun
Mischief
Darkness
Necks
Break
Shade
Reflex
Upon
Hang
Beams
Death
Glorious
Reflexes
May
Till
Abode
Country
Drive
Gloomy

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As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.
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The one I love is the son of the one I hate! -Juliet p. 75
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Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
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For it falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us While it was ours.
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Why, universal plodding poisons up The nimble spirits in the arteries, As motion and long-during action tires The sinewy vigor of the traveller.
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O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
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Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
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Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done joy's soul lies in the doing: That she beloved knows naught, that knows not this-- Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear To stop the air would hurt them.
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Officers, what offence have these men done? DOGBERRY Marry, sir, they have committed false report moreover, they have spoken untruths secondarily, they are slanders sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady thirdly, they have verified unjust things and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.
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For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy
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To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.
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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
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To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.
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A fusty nut with no kernel.
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If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.
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When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
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