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
For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
If't be summer news, Smile to't before; if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
No place indeed should murder sanctuarize; Revenge should have no bounds.
All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy.
Can it be That modesty may more betray our sense Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary And pitch our evils there?
So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown When judges have been babes; great floods have flown From simple sources, and great seas have dried When miracles have by the greatest been denied.
What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
Whereto serves mercy But to confront the visage of offense?
Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe.