Quote

Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.

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
Window
Good
Ophelia
Morn
Maid
Maids
Morrow
Valentine
Saint

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To me, fair friend, you never can be old, For as you were when first your eye I ey'd, Such seems your beauty still.
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It is not night when I do see your face, Therefore I think I am not in the night Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company, For you in my respect are all the world: Then how can it be said I am alone, When all the world is here to look on me?
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A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
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The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours, Even in the moment that we call them ours.
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When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me wouldst give me Water with berries in't and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
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Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!
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You are a tedious fool.
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to you, trippingly on the tongue but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells to him as it doth to me.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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You may my Glories and my State depose, But not my Griefes still am I King of those.
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And where two raging fires meet together, they do consume the thing that feeds their fury.
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I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness, And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting.
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Coward dogs most spend their mouths when what they seem to threaten runs far before them.
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Thou art most rich, being poor Most choice, forsaken and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
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O, wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new world, That has such people in't!
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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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