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
The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, And so doth yours: your fault was not your folly; Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, Subjected tribute to commanding love, Against whose fury and unmatched force The aweless lion could not wage the fight Nor keep his princely heart from Richard's hand.
I do profess to be no less than I seem; to serve him truly that will put me in trust: to love him that is honest; to converse with him that is wise, and says little; to fear judgment; to fight when I cannot choose; and to eat no fish.
Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.
I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and-twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest; for there is nothing in the between but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting
God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
Experience teacheth us That resolution 's a sole help at need: And this, my lord, our honour teacheth us, That we be bold in every enterprise: Then since there is no way, but fight or die, Be resolute, my lord, for victory.
To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, Gives, in your weakness, strength unto your foe, And so your follies fight against yourself. Fear, and be slain--so worse can come to fight; And fight and die is death destroying death, Where fearing dying pays death servile breath.
Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villainy! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion, that dost never fight But where her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety.
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
Fight valiantly to-day; and yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it, for thou art framed of the firm truth of valor.
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
Extreme fear can neither fight nor fly.
For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.