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Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
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
Welcome
Winter
Summer
Full
Wish
Makes
Care
Thrice
Rare
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Reflection is the business of man a sense of his state is his first duty: but who remembereth himself in joy? Is it not in mercy then that sorrow is allotted unto us?
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What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.
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And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
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Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
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Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights Four nights will quickly dream away the time And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.
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Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
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I cannot speak your england.
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. . . it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is needful that you frame the season of your own harvest.
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Time travels in divers paces with divers persons.
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A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
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There's small choice in rotten apples.
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The empty vessel makes the loudest sound.
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This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet
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That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
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Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
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Out of her favour, where I am in love.
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