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
When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; so sweet is zealous contemplation.
Tis our fast intent To shake all cares and business from our age, Conferring them on younger strengths, while we Unburdened crawl toward death.
Dirty days hath September April June and November From January up to May The rain it raineth every day All the rest have thirty-one Without a blessed gleam of sun And if any of them had two-and-thirty They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty." "April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud; Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun, And loathsome canker lies in sweetest bud. All men make faults.
Wise men never sit and wail their loss, but cheerily seek how to redress their harms.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege; The hardest knife ill-used doth lose his edge.
Two lovely berries molded on one stem: So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart.
He hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is the clapper; for what his heart thinks his tongue speaks.
It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, "Thus diddest thou;"
Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking; I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.
My heart is turned to stone; I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.
O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!