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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle I am no traitor's uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane.

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
Word
Ungracious
Profane
Traitor
Uncle
Uncles
Mouth
Mouths
Grace

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...and then, in dreaming, / The clouds methought would open and show riches / Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked / I cried to dream again.
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Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts.
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You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.
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What made me love thee? let that persuade thee, there's something extraordinary in thee
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
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Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
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Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
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They whose guilt within their bosom lies, imagine every eye beholds their blame.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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one pain is cured by another. catch some new infection in your eye and the poison of the old one would die.
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If is a custom, More honor'd in the breach than the observance.
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My tongue will tell the anger of my heart, or else my heart concealing it will break.
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Have patience, and endure
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Death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead!
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Life... is a paradise to what we know of death.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?
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No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. But I know none, and therefore am no beast.
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