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's in a name? That which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet
The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
Who steals my purse, steals trash, but he that filches from me my good name robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
O, how I faint when I of you do write, Knowing a better spirit doth use your name, And in the praise thereof spends all his might To make me tongue-tied speaking of your fame.
I will name you the degrees. The first, the Retort Courteous; the second, the Quip Modest; the third, the Reply Churlish; the fourth, the Reproof Valiant; the fifth, the Countercheck Quarrelsome; the sixth, the Lie with Circumstance; the seventh, the Lie Direct.
I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
And teach me how To name the bigger light, and how the less, That burn by day and night ...
O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!
We go to gain a little patch of ground that hath in it no profit but the name.
A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.
O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou has no name to be known by, let us call thee devil....O God, that men should put an enemy in their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should, with joy, pleasance revel and applause, transform ourselves into beasts!
My father names me Autolycus, who being, as I am, littered under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of unconsidered trifles.
In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war.