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O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
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
Princes
Hangs
Wretched
Favors
Poor
Men
Lucifer
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Care keeps his watch in every old man’s eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie.
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And all my mother came into mine eyes And gave me up to tears.
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Love is my sin, and thy dear virtue hate, Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving.
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The play's the thing.
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But Kate, dost thou understand thus much English? Canst thou love me? Catherine: I cannot tell. Henry: Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them.
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Barnes are blessings.
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There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murder in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
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We all are men, in our own natures frail, and capable of our flesh few are angels.
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.
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Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.
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There lives within the very flame of love A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
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Let husbands know Their wives have sense like them. They see, and smell, And have their palates both for sweet and sour, As husbands have.
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Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try In that I live, and for that I will die.
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I have heard of your paintings too, well enough God has given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
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Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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Well, every one can master a grief but he that has it.
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Speak me fair in death.
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