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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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
Business
Others
Play
Must
Ring
Rings
Sorrow
Trade
Fool
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His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise.
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Foul whisp'rings are abroad.
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Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
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Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
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This above all to thine own self be true.
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If money go before, all ways do lie open.
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Are there no stones in heaven But what serves for thunder?
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true apothecary thy drugs art quick
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The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand.
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Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
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We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
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Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
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My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things.
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It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding Sweet lovers love the spring.
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To be in love- where scorn is bought with groans, Coy looks with heart-sore sighs, one fading moment's mirth With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights If haply won, perhaps a hapless gain If lost, why then a grievous labour won However, but a folly bought with wit, Or else a wit by folly vanquished.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
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