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Ay beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.

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
Makes
Princely
Confounds
Majesty
Rough
Senses
Tongue
Beauty

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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
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So many hours must I take my rest So many hours must I contemplate.
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Silence is only commendable In a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not vendible.
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You abilities are too infant-like for doing much alone.
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To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just.
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I can express no kinder sign of love, than this kind kiss.
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Good reasons must of force give place to better.
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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, Nor wit nor reason can my passion hide. Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, For that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause But rather reason thus with reason fetter, Love sought is good, but given unsought better.
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.
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A noble shalt thou have, and present pay And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
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Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.
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Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
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But love is blind and lovers cannot see
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A fool's bolt is soon shot.
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This rough magic I here abjure and when I have required some heavenly music, which even now I do, to work mine end upon their senses that this airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book.
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