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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
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
Dawn
Clouds
Morn
Night
Frowning
Light
Streaks
Eyed
Smiles
Eastern
Gray
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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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We must follow, not force Providence.
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Go hang yourself, you naughty mocking uncle!
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Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
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Take pains. Be perfect.
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So now I have confessed that he is thine, And I my self am mortgaged to thy will, My self I'll forfeit, so that other mine, Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
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O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.
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Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in's own house.
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Honor, riches, marriage-blessing Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you!
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As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
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He was not so much brain as earwax
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Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.
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As chaste as unsunned snow.
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For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog.
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Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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Oh, flatter me for love delights in praises.
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