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Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.

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
Hay
Hath
Fellow
Fellows
Sweet
Good

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When a gentlemen is disposed to swear, it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths.
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You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.
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Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
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What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet, But poisoned flattery?
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
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The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
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Hadst thou no poison mixed, no sharp-ground knife, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, But 'banished' to kill me--'banished'? O friar, the damned use that word in hell Howling attends it! How hast thou the heart, Being a divine, a ghostly confessor, A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, To mangle me with that word 'banished'?
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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
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To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
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My dull brain was wrought with things forgotten.
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Every good servant does not all commands.
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Set we forward let A Roman and a British ensign wave Friendly together. So through Lud's town march, And in the temple of the great Jupiter Our peace we'll ratify, seal it with feasts. Set on there! Never was a war did cease, Ere bloody hands were washed, with such a peace.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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To be, or not to be, that is the question.
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The best is yet to come.
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To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.
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I am your wife if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow You may deny me, but I'll be your servant Whether you will or no.
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We are such stuff as dreams are made on and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
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Till all grace be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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