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Now the time is come, That France must veil her lofty-plumed crest, And let her head fall into England's lap.
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
England
Victory
Plumed
Head
Crest
Fall
Lap
Come
Veil
Must
Veils
Time
Lofty
France
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He wears the rose Of youth upon him.
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My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
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The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
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If it be you that stirs these daughters' hearts Against their father, fool me not so much To bear it tamely touch me with noble anger, And let not women's weapons, water drops, Stain my man's cheeks.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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My only love sprung from my only hate.
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You are strangely troublesome.
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Tis better using France than trusting France Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas, Which He hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.
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This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.
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What's gone, and what's past help, Should be past grief.
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Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
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Do not speak like a death's-head, do not bid me remember mine end.
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The will is infinite and the execution confin'd, the desire is boundless and the act a slave to limit.
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He is deformed, crooked, old and sere, Ill-faced, worse bodied, shapeless everywhere Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind Stigmatical in making, worse in mind.
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Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave.
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I hate ingratitude more in a man than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood.
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