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Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
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
Pain
Sadness
Black
Loving
Mourners
Heart
Pretty
Pitying
Love
Eyes
Ruth
Knowing
Disdain
Looking
Thine
Upon
Sad
Eye
Torment
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Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
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Stars hide your fires let not light see my black and deep desires: The eyes wink at the hand yet let that be which the eye fears, when it is done, to see
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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I'll teach you differences.
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If thou dost love, proclaim it faithfully.
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Of all knowledge the wise and good seek most to know themselves.
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What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
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Trust not my reading, nor my observations, Which with experimental seal do warrant The tenor of my book.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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Every cloud engenders not a storm.
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Every true man's apparel fits your thief.
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Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
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I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
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Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity, the less they deserve ... the more merit in your bounty.
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How low am I, thou painted maypole?
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