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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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
Forgot
Grace
Goes
Nothing
Right
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A ministering angel shall my sister be.
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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Call me what instrument you will, though you can fret me, you cannot play upon me.
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O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
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I will make a Star-chamber matter of it.
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So are you to my thoughts as food to life, or as sweet seasoned showers are to the ground.
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Cowards die many times before their deaths The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
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a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
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It is thyself, mine own self's better part Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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Before the curing of a strong disease, Even in the instant of repair and health, The fit is strongest. Evils that take leave, On their departure most of all show evil.
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O God, O God, how weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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How lush and lusty the grass looks! how green!
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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
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Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
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