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
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:Follow your spirit; and upon this chargeCry "God for Harry! England and Saint George!
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.
Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
Thou wert best set - thy lower part where thy nose stands
I grow, I prosper;Now, gods, stand up for bastards!
There are a sort of men whose visagesDo cream and mantle like a standing pond.
His life was gentle, and the elements / So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up / And say to all the world, / This was a man!
He that stands upon a slippery place, makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up
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.