William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare – 23 April 1616) was an English poet, playwright, and actor, widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet, and the "Bard of Avon". His extant works, including collaborations, consist of approximately 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, and a few other verses, some of uncertain authorship. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPlaywright
Date of Birth23 April 1564
Give me a staff of honor for mine age, But not a sceptre to control the world.
Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.
Pray, do not mock me. I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward, not an hour more nor less; And, to deal plainly, I fear I am not in my perfect mind.
Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek.
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time.
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.
Nor age so eat up my invention.
Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
Affection, mistress of passion, sways it to the mood of what it likes or loathes.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose; 'Tis breath not lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
Wait for the season when to cast good counsels upon subsiding passion.
Tis often seen Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds A native slip to us from foreign lands.
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.