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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
Uncles
Mouth
Mouths
Grace
Word
Ungracious
Profane
Traitor
Uncle

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How strange or odd some'er I bear myself, As I perchance hereafter shall think meet To put an antic disposition on.
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When thou cam'st first, Thou strok'st me and made much of me wouldst give me Water with berries in't and teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night and then I loved thee And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle, The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
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A lover goes toward his beloved as enthusiastically as a schoolboy leaving his books, but when he leaves his girlfriend, he feels as miserable as the schoolboy on his way to school. (Act 2, scene 2)
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Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.
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Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
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Those that much covet are with gain so fond, For what they have not, that which they possess They scatter and unloose it from their bond, And so, by hoping more, they have but less Or, gaining more, the profit of excess Is but to surfeit, and such griefs sustain, That they prove bankrupt in this poor-rich gain.
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Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come make her laugh at that.
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The whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
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I must be cruel, only to be kind.
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Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.
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O sir, you are old nature in you stands on the very verge of her confine you should be ruled and led by some discretion, that discerns your fate better than you yourself.
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Let him smell his way to Dover!
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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The extreme parts of time extremely forms all causes to the purpose of his speed.
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Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
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When you fear a foe, fear crushes your strength and this weakness gives strength to your opponents.
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Flout 'em, and scout 'em and scout 'em, and flout 'em / Thought is free.
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Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards.
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Hung be the heavens with black! Yield, day, to night!
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In scorn of nature, art gave lifeless life.
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