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
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
Who steals my purse steals trash: 'tis something, nothin', 'twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands. But he who filches from me my good name, robs me of that which not enriches him and makes me poor indeed.
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.
The voluntary path to cheerfulness, if our spontaneous be lost, is to sit up cheerfully, and act and speak as if cheerfulness wee already there. To feel brave, act as if we were brave, use all our will to that end, and courage will very likely replace fear. If we act as if from some better feeling, the bad feeling soon folds its tent like an Arab and silently steals away
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 seasons alter: hoary-headed frostsFall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.
...the spring, the summer,The chilling autumn, angry winter, changeTheir wonted liveries; and the mazed worldBy their increase, now knows not which is which.
The spirit that I have seen May be the devil: and the devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape
Is there no way for men to be, but womenMust be half-workers?
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!