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Gold--what can it not do, and undo?

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
Gold
Undo

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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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Oh, how this spring of love resembleth, The uncertain glory of an April day, Which now shows all beauty of the Sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away
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How soar sweet music is, when time is broke, and no proportion kept!
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Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead, Now am I fled My soul is in the sky: Tongue, lose thy light Moon take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die.
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For it falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lacked and lost, Why, then we rack the value, then we find The virtue that possession would not show us While it was ours.
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I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
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Th abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.
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Our praises are our wages.
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It was always yet the trick of our English nation, if they have a good thing, to make it too common.
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The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.
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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
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I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
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If it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul.
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The happiest youth, viewing his progress through, What perils past, what crosses to ensue, Would shut the book, and sit him down and die.
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Maids want nothing but husbands, and when they have them, they want everything.
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He receives comfort like cold porridge.
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Where I could not be honest, I never yet was valiant.
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I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.
William Shakespeare