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No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
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
Villainous
Extravagance
Bounty
Hath
Passed
Integrity
Given
Heart
Unwisely
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The pleasing punishment that women bear.
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O Lord that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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There is no more mercy in him than there is milk in a male tiger.
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Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
William Shakespeare
I'll go find a shadow, and sigh till he come (Phebe)
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For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds Lillies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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If't be summer news, Smile to't before if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
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This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven.
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Let every eye negotiate for itself and trust no agent.
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Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
William Shakespeare
And too soon Marred are those so early Made.
William Shakespeare
Love's best habit is a soothing tongue
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A poor thing, perhaps, but my own.
William Shakespeare
Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words
William Shakespeare
