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Should the poor be flattered? No let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp, and crook the pregnant hinges of the knee where thrift may follow fawning.
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
Pregnant
Pomp
Knees
Lick
Absurd
Crooks
Tongue
Hinges
Follow
Thrift
Poor
Flattered
May
Knee
Fawning
Flattery
Crook
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air the earth sings when he touches it the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
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I hold him but a fool that will endanger His body for a girl that loves him not.
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I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground, and tell sad stories of the death of kings... All murdered for within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king, keeps Death his court... and with a little pin bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
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Travelers never did lie, though fools at home condemn them.
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Presume not that I am the thing I was.
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Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
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A pair of star-crossed lovers.
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Keep thy friend Under thy own life's key.
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Give me a staff of honor for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world.
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Doubt thou the stars are fire Doubt that the sun doth move Doubt truth to be a liar But never doubt I love.
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I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
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It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.
William Shakespeare
Give me a bowl of wine. I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have.
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No sooner met but they looked no sooner looked but they loved no sooner loved but they sighed no sooner sighed but they asked one another the reason no sooner knew the reason but they sought the remedy and in these degrees have they made a pair of stairs to marriage.
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Come, Lady, die to live.
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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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