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
We wound our modesty and make foul the clearness of our deservings, when of ourselves we publish them.
Suit the action to the world, the world to the action, with this special observance, that you overstep not the modesty of nature.
In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.
Can it be chat modesty may more betray Our sense than woman's lightness?
Modest wisdom plucks me from over-credulous haste.
Pastime passing excellent, if it he husbanded with modesty.
Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a manAs modest stillness and humility;But when the blast of war blows in our ears,Then imitate the action of the tiger:Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;Now set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide,Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spiritTo his full height!
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 purest treasure mortal times afford, is spotless reputation; that away, men are but gilded loam or painted clay.
The rude sea grew civil at her song,And certain stars shot madly from their spheresTo hear the sea-maid's music.
The robb'd that smiles steals something from the thief: He robs himself that spends a bootless grief
The robb'd that smiles, steals something from the thief
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frostsFall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.