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There is none but he Whose being I do fear and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar.

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
Rebuked
Antony
Caesar
Mark
None
Whose
Genius
Fear

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Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.
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Finish, good lady the bright day is done, And we are for the Dark.
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Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say.
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He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause.
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The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.
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And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot And thereby hangs a tale.
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Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
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More fools know Jack Fool than Jack Fool knows.
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My love is as a fever, longing still.
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Many a good hanging prevents a bad marriage.
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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
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You speak like a green girl / unsifted in such perilous circumstances.
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Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
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Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
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Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
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Pray, do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
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On a day - alack the day! - Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air
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I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
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