Shakespeare; William
People note exceptional verbal wit, psychological depth, and emotional range of English playwright and poet William Shakespeare, who included such historical works as
Richard II
, comedies like
Much Ado about Nothing
, and such tragedies as
Hamlet
,
Othello
, and
King Lear
and also composed 154 sonnets before people published posthumously
First Folio
, which collected and contained edition of 36 plays in 1623.
He and Anne Hathaway, his wife, married in 1582.
Forest of Arden, a formerly very extensive wooded area, north of Stratford-upon-Avon of central England provided the setting for
As You Like It
of Shakespeare.
People widely regard William Shakespeare (baptized 26 April 1564) as the greatest writer in the language and the pre-eminent dramatist of the world. They often call him simply the national "bard of Avon." Surviving writings consist of 38 dramas, two long narratives, and several other books. People translate them into every major living language and performed them most often.
Anne bore him Susanna Shakespeare, and twins Hamnet Shakespeare and Judith Shakespeare. Between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner of the Lord Chamberlain's Men, the company, later known as the King's Men.
Shakespeare wrote throughout the span of his life. He started writing in 1589 and afterward averaged 1.5 dramas a year. From 1590, Shakespeare produced most of his known literature. He early mainly raised genres to the peak of sophistication and artistry before 1601. Next, he wrote mainly Macbeth and similar dramas, considered some of the finest examples in the language, until 1608. In his last phase, he wrote also known romances and collaborated until 1613.
He apparently retired to Stratford around 1613, where he died three years later on day of Saint George, his 52nd birthday. Few records of private life of Shakespeare survive with considerable speculation about such matters as his sexuality, religious beliefs, and whether he wrote all attributed literature.
People inscribed many books of varying quality and accuracy during his lifetime, and in 1623, two of his former theatrical colleagues issued all but two now recognized dramas of Shakespeare. Shakespeare, the great master of language and literature authentically wrote not all that people attribute.
People respected Shakespeare in his own day, but his reputation rose to its present heights not until the nineteenth century. The romantics in particular acclaimed genius of Shakespeare, and the Victorians hero-worshiped him with a reverence that George Bernard Shaw called "bardolatry." In the 20th century, new movements in scholarship and performance repeatedly adopted and rediscovered his dramas. People consistently perform and reinterpret his highly popular dramas today in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world.
“silence is not a langauge, its a weapon to make your dear one to feel”
“I am glad I have found this napkin.This was her first remembrance from the Moor,My wayward husband hath a hundred timesWooed me to steal it, but she so loves the token— For he conjured her she should ever keep it— That she reserves it evermore about herTo kiss and talk to. I’ll ha’ the work ta’en out,And give’t Iago. What he will do with it,Heaven knows, not I.I nothing, but to please his fantasy.”
“Haply for I am black,And have not those soft parts of conversationThat chamberers have; or for I am declinedInto the vale of years—yet that’s not much— She’s gone. I am abused, and my reliefMust be to loathe her. O curse of marriage,That we can call these delicate creatures oursAnd not their appetites! I had rather be a toadAnd live upon the vapor of a dungeonThan keep a corner in the thing I loveFor others’ uses. Yet ’tis the plague of great ones;Prerogatived are they less than the base.’Tis destiny unshunnable, like death.”
“My noble father,I do perceive here a divided duty.To you I am bound for life and education.My life and education both do learn meHow to respect you. You are the lord of my duty,I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband,And so much duty as my mother showedTo you, preferring you before her father,So much I challenge that I may professDue to the Moor my lord.”
“Were I the Moor I would not be Iago.In following him I follow but myself;Heaven is my judge, not I for love and duty,But seeming so for my peculiar end.For when my outward action doth demonstrateThe native act and figure of my heartIn compliment extern, ’tis not long afterBut I will wear my heart upon my sleeveFor daws to peck at. I am not what I am”
“Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst”
“You have her father's love, Demetrius;Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.”
“Now entertain conjecture of a time,When creeping murmur and the pouring darkFill the wide vessel of the universe...Chorus Henry V ”
“Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.”
“Unhappy that I am, I cannot heaveMy heart into my mouth: I love your majestyAccording to my bond; no more nor less.”
“we are the lords of all eternity”
“I pray you school yourself. [MacBeth, Act 1V, Scene 2]”
“The one I love is the son of the one I hate!-Juliet p. 75”
“Would the fountain of your mind were clear again,that I might water an ass at it!”
“Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon As done: perseverance, dear my lord, Keeps honour bright: to have done is to hang Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail In monumental mockery. Take the instant way; For honour travels in a strait so narrow,Where one but goes abreast: keep then the path; For emulation hath a thousand sons That one by one pursue: if you give way, Or hedge aside from the direct forthright, Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush byAnd leave you hindmost; Or like a gallant horse fall'n in first rank, Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, O'er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present, Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop yours; For time is like a fashionable host That slightly shakes his parting guest by the hand, And with his arms outstretch'd, as he would fly, Grasps in the comer: welcome ever smiles, And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek Remuneration for the thing it was; For beauty, wit, High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all To envious and calumniating time.”
“Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'th'world; and having the world for your labour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and you might quickly make it a right.”
“A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!”
“How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!Your eyes do menace me. Why look you pale?Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?”
“Show me a man that is not passion's slave and I will wear him in my heart's core.”
“No, madam.”
“Let life be short, else shame will be too long.”
“I go and it is done. The bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell that summons thee to heaven or to hell.”
“When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray!”
“All days are nights to see till I see thee, And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.”