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O wretched state! O bosom black as death! O limed soul that, struggling to be free, art more engaged! Help, angels! Make assay! Bow, stubborn knees! and, heart with strings of steel, be soft as sinews of the new-born babe!

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
Death
Engaged
Wretched
Helping
Angel
Struggling
Art
Struggle
Repentance
Sinews
States
State
Steel
Bosom
Soul
Help
Strings
Bosoms
Heart
Free
Angels
Babe
Make
Born
Soft
Bows
Black
Knees
Stubborn

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Prophet may you be! If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth, when time is old and hath forgot itself, when waterdrops have worn the stones of Troy, and blind oblivion swallowed cities up, and mighty states characterless are grated to dusty nothing, yet let memory, from false to false, among false maids in love, upbraid my falsehood!
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I speak of peace, while covert enmity under the smile of safety wounds the world
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And either victory, or else a grave.
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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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We that are true lovers run into strange capers.
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There's husbandry in heaven Their candles are all out.
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Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, You moonshine revellers, and shades of night, You orphan heirs of fixed destiny, Attend your office and your quality.
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My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should drew us fairly for our end.
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The devil knew what he did when he made men politic he crossed himself by it.
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The morning steals upon the night, Melting the darkness.
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All his successors gone before him have done 't and all his ancestors that come after him may.
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Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
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This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end My life is run his compass.
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There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
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Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou camest to bite the world.
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Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.
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For what I will, I will, and there an end.
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'By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible true, that thou art beauteous truth itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal.
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
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