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Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
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
Heaven
Fair
Month
Wish
Lovers
Lover
Spied
Death
Air
Passings
Wanton
May
Sick
Breath
Blossom
Find
Whose
Breaths
Velvet
Ever
Months
Leaves
Passage
Love
Wind
Fairs
Passages
Playing
Passing
Unseen
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If you be King, why should not I succeed?
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I doubt not then but innocence shall makeFalse accusation blush, and tyrannyTremble at patience.
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As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not (5.3.25-28).
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As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.
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Experience teacheth that resolution is a sole help in need.
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Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom it fills one full of obstacles.
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Come give us a taste of your quality.
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Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
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By Heaven, I love thee better than myself
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Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are 'clept All by the name of dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed.
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Obey thy parents, keep thy word justly swear not commit not with man's sworn spouse set not thy sweet heart on proud array. * * * Keep thy foot out of brothels, thy pen from lenders' books.
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
William Shakespeare
Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
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Love thyself last, cherish those hearts that hate thee Corruption wins not more than honesty.
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We must be brief when traitors brave the field.
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O wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! And yet again wonderful, and after that, out of all hooping.
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Sin will pluck on sin.
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I am thy father's spirit Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.
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Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
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Let him smell his way to Dover!
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