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
What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted! Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just, and he but naked, though locked up in steel, whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape
O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio is dead! That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds which too untimely here did scorn the earth.
Custom hath made it in him a property of easiness.
Time hath a wallet at his back, wherein he puts. Alms for oblivion, a great-sized monster of ingratitudes.
I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numb'ring clock; My thoughts are minutes
She hath more hair than wit, and more faults than hairs, and more wealth than faults.
Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows
It shall be called Bottom's Dream, because it hath no bottom.
God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another.
He hath not fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink.
He hath no drowning mark upon him; his complexion is perfect gallows.
But if the cause be not good, the King himself hath a heavy reckoning to make, when all those legs and arms and heads chopped off in a battle shall join together at the latter day, and cry all, 'We died at such a place' - some swearing, some crying f
How like a winter hath my absence been. From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!