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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.
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
Actors
Odd
Think
Madness
Thinking
Bear
Bears
Meet
Antics
Strange
Perchance
Shall
Hereafter
Acting
Disposition
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And Caesar shall go forth.
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Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
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And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night.
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I have trod a measure, I have flattered a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy.
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Nor age so eat up my invention.
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So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly it strikes where it doth love.
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Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
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Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
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The villany you teach me I shall execute and it shall go hard but I will better the instruction.
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Celebrity is never more admired than by the negligent.
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Some are born great, others achieve greatness.
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Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no prouds.
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Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.
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The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst.
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This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this England This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, . . . This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land.
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But that the dread of something after death, The undiscover'd country from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?
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What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?
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World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
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