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 plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
He wears the rose Of youth upon him.
But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
Flower of this purple dye, Hit with Cupid's archery, Sink in apple of his eye.
Their lips were four red roses on a stalk.
Who are the violets now That strew the lap of the new-come spring?
These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
The tempter or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she: nor doth she tempt: but it is I That, lying by the violet in the sun, Do as the carrion does, not as the flower, Corrupt with virtuous season.
Yet nor the lays of birds nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.