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

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I was too young that time to value her, But now I know her. If she be a traitor, Why, so am I. We still have slept together, Rose at an instant, learned, played, eat together, And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's swans, Still we went coupled and inseparable.
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The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name such tricks hath strong imagination.
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I do know of these That therefore only are reputed wise For saying nothing.
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Rich honesty dwells like a miser, Sir, in a poor house as your pearl in your foul oyster.
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The weariest and most loathed worldly life, that age, ache, penury and imprisonment can lay on nature is a paradise, to what we fear of death.
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear To stop the air would hurt them.
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By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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Put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.
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Like a man made after supper of a cheese-paring: when a' was naked, he was, for all the world, like a forked radish, with a head fantastically carved upon it with a knife.
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