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
To this urn let those repair That are either true or fair; For these dead birds sigh a prayer.
Never, never, never, never, never! Pray you, undo this button.
Now my charms are all o'erthrown, And what strength I have's mine own, - Which is most faint: now, 'tis true, I must be here confined by you... But release me from my bands With the help of your good hands: Gentle breath of yours my sails Must fill, or else my project fails, Which was to please: now I want Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; And my ending is despair, Unless I be relieved by prayer, Which pierces so, that it assaults Mercy itself, and frees all faults. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good; so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
I do not know What kind of my obedience I should tender. More than my all is nothing; nor my prayers Are not words holy hallowed, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers and wishes Are all I can return.
Bow, stubborn knees, and, heart with strings of steel, Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe. All many be well.
Nymph, in thy orisons be all my sins remembered!
If yon bethink yourself of any crime Unreconcil'd as yet to heaven and grace, Solicit for it straight.
O my good lord, that comfort comes too late, 'Tis like a pardon after execution. That gentle physic, given in time, had cured me; But now I am past all comforts here but prayers.
Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
His worst fault is, he's given to prayer; he is something peevish that way.
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Let me say amen betimes lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book.