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
Shall not be long but I'll be here again:Things at the worst will cease, or else climb upwardTo what they were before.
Things at the worst will cease or else climb upward To what they were before.
To climb steep hills requires slow pace at first.
King Henry: But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest! To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high. Suffolk: No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protectors hawks do tower so well; They know their masters loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloucester: My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows
Every one can master a grief but he that has it
The blood more stirsTo rouse a lion than to start a hare!
The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug,For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe.
Striving to be better, oft we mar what's well.
That, if then I had waked after a long sleep, will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming, the clouds me thought would open and show riches ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked I cried to dream again.
Once more the engine of her thoughts began. . . .
Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more; Or close the wall up with our English dead!
Not wine... men intoxicate themselves; Not vice... men entice themselves.