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 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.
I hate ingratitude more in a person; than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness, or, any taint of vice whose strong corruption inhabits our frail blood.
There are a sort of men whose visagesDo cream and mantle like a standing pond.
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm: England, bound in with the triumphant sea Whose rocky shore beats back the envi
He is half of a blessed man. Left to be finished by such as she; and she a fair divided excellence, whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
But I am constant as the northern star, Of whose true-fix'd and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament
No, 'tis slander, Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath Rides on the posting winds and doth belie All corners of the world; kings, queens, and states, Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the
I could a tale unfold whose lightest wordWould harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres.
The undiscovered country form whose born no traveler returns.
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.