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The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
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
Bed
Custom
Driven
Senators
Comfort
Tyrants
War
Steel
Made
Customs
Thrice
Hath
Tyrant
Grave
Couch
Graves
Couches
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There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
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Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
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What we determine we often break. Purpose is but the slave to memory.
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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!
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O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frightened thee, 1710. That thou no more will weigh my eyelids down, And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
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Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
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Highly fed and lowly taught.
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No visor does become black villainy so well as soft and tender flattery.
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For youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds Importing health and graveness.
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.
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He that is thy friend indeed, He will help thee in thy need: If thou sorrow, he will weep If thou wake, he cannot sleep: Thus of every grief in heart He with thee does bear a part. These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe.
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O gentlemen, the time of life is short! To spend that shortness basely were too long, If life did ride upon a dial's point, Still ending at the arrival of an hour.
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That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches one that would circumvent God, might it not?
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Our very eyes Are sometimes, like our judgments, blind.
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Well, God give them wisdom that have it and those that are fools, let them use their talents.
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Live how we can, yet die we must.
William Shakespeare
I will go wash And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.
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