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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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
Mines
Mine
Tears
Full
Eyes
Eye
Heart
Grief
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A sentence is but a cheveril glove to a good wit How quickly the wrong side may be turned outward!
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Slander, whose whisper over the world's diameter, as level as the cannon to its blank, transports its poisoned shot.
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I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
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Believe then, if you please, that I can do strange things. [Act 5, Scene 2]
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, / I must not look to have but, in their stead, / Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, / Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not (5.3.25-28).
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For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
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I am joined with no foot land-rakers, no long-staff, sixpenny strikers, none of these mad, mustachio purple-hued maltworms, but with nobility and tranquillity.
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The soul of this man is his clothes.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
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My joy is death- Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
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Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep.
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And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse, As patches set upon a little breach, Discredit more in hiding of the fault Than did the fault before it was so patch'd.
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Take her away for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
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in black ink my love may still shine bright.
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Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
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Such antics do not amount to a man.
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Waste not thy time in windy argument but let the matter drop.
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