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I am declined Into the vale of years.
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
Vale
Declined
Vapor
Years
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Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own!
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The pow'r that I have on you is to spare you The malice towards you to forgive you.
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Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy.
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Mind your speech a little lest you should mar your fortunes.
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.
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Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
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Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.
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How ill white hairs become a fool and jester!
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Our jovial star reigned at his birth.
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Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court?
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Be not too tame neither, but let your own Discretion be your tutor suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
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His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed a horse.
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By how much unexpected, by so much We must awake endeavour for defence For courage mounteth with occasion.
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Thou art a soul in bliss but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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What, shall one of us, That struck for the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers--shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
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