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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
Good
Ophelia
Morn
Maid
Maids
Morrow
Valentine
Saint
Window
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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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There's her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.
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Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
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For thou hast given me in this beauteous face A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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If there is a good will, there is great way.
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I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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Out, damned spot! Out, I say!
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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She is your treasure, she must have a husband I must dance bare-foot on her wedding day, And, for your love to her, lead apes in hell.
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I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
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Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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Like a dull actor now, I have forgot my part, and I am out, Even to a full disgrace.
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
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Let's meet as little as we can
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
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Love and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition: Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away.
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Full of wise saws and modern instances.
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I must be cruel, only to be kind.
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