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
O God! methinks it were a happy life,To be no better than a homely swain;To sit upon a hill, as I do now,To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,Thereby to see the minutes how they run,How many make the hour full complete;How many hours bring about the day;How many days will finish up the year;How many years a mortal man may live.
I wasted time, and now doth Time waste me: For now hath Time made me his numb'ring clock; My thoughts are minutes
What's the newest grief? Each minute tunes a new one.
Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
Well could I curse away a winter's night,Though standing naked on a mountain top,Where biting cold would never let grass grow,And think it but a minute spent in sport.
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!