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
Hold, or cut bowstrings.
We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.
Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth, And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out.
But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
Beauty lives with kindness.
O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general; And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dew falls everywhere.
Gently to hear, kindly to judge.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care, Find we a time for frighted peace to pant And breathe short-winded accents of new broils To be commenced in stronds afar remote.
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death; When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's.