William Shakespeare
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.
“the pleached bower,Where honeysuckles ripened by the sunForbid the sun to enter, like favoritesMade proud by princes, that advance their prideAgainst that power that bred it.”
“Villain, what hast thou done?Aaron: That which thou canst not undo.Chiron: Thou hast undone our mother.Aaron: Villain, I have done thy mother.”
“Good Madonna, why mournest thou?Good Fool, for my brother's death.I think his soul is in hell, Madonna.I know his soul is in heaven, Fool. The more fool, Madonna, to mourn for your brother's soul being in heaven.”
“WILL YOU YIELD AND THIS AVOID, OR GUILTY IN DEFENSE BE THUS DESTROY'D?”
“Strike as thou didst at Caesar; for I know / When though didst hate him worst, thou loved’st him better / Than ever thou loved’st Cassius.”
“London as an actor, writer, and part owner of the playing company the”
“Virginity being blown down man will quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettel to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept it is ever lost. ‘Tis too cold a companion. Away with ‘t!There’s little can be said in’t; ’tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity murthers itself, and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose by’t. Out with ‘t! Within the year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with ‘t! Tis a commodity that will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with ’t, while ’tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily. Marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear! Will you anything with it?”
“Who knows himself a braggart, let him fear this, for it will come to pass that every braggart shall be found an ass.”
“What cannot be preserved when fortune takesPatience her injury a mock'ry makes.The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief.He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.”
“Ah, she doth teach the torches to burn bright, it seems she hangs against the cheek of night like a rich jewel from an Ethiope's ear, beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.”
“The wine-cup is the little silver well, Where truth, if truth there beDoth dwell.”
“Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.”
“In jest, there is truth.”
“You may my glories and my state depose,But not my griefs; still am I king of those.”
“All dark and comfortless.”
“It is an heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in't.”
“What bloody man is that? He can report,As seemeth by his plight, of the revoltThe newest state.”
“Existen más cosas entre el cielo y la tierra que las que sueñas en tu filosofía.”
“More grief to hide than hate to utter love. Polonius, Hamlet.”
“I flamed amazement”
“Francis Flute, the bellows-mender.FLUTEHere, Peter Quince.QUINCEFlute, you must take Thisby on you.FLUTEWhat is Thisby? a wandering knight?QUINCEIt is the lady that Pyramus must love.FLUTENay, faith, let me not play a woman; I have a beard coming.”
“Relent, sweet Hermia: and, Lysander, yieldThy crazed title to my certain right.LYSANDERYou have her father's love, Demetrius;Let me have Hermia's: do you marry him.”
“Either to die the death or to abjureFor ever the society of men.Therefore, fair Hermia, question your desires;Know of your youth, examine well your blood,Whether, if you yield not to your father's choice,You can endure the livery of a nun,For aye to be in shady cloister mew'd,To live a barren sister all your life,Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd,Than that which withering on the virgin thornGrows, lives and dies in single blessedness.”
“Methought I was enamour'd of an ass.”
“One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead.”
“For goodness, growing to a plurisy,Dies in his own too much: that we would doWe should do when we would; for this 'would' changesAnd hath abatements and delays as manyAs there are tongues,”
“do you think I ameasier to be played on than a pipe? Call me whatinstrument you will, though you can fret me, yet youcannot play upon me.”
“Tis as easy as lying: govern these ventages withyour lingers and thumb, give it breath with yourmouth, and it will discourse most eloquent music.Look you, these are the stops.”
“Purpose is but the slave to memory,Of violent birth, but poor validity;”
“I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; Godhas given you one face, and you make yourselvesanother: you jig, you amble, and you lisp, andnick-name God's creatures, and make your wantonnessyour ignorance. Go to, I'll no more on't; it hathmade me mad.”
“There's some ill planet reigns:I must be patient till the heavens lookWith an aspect more favourable. Good my lords,I am not prone to weeping, as our sexCommonly are; the want of which vain dewPerchance shall dry your pities: but I haveThat honourable grief lodged here which burnsWorse than tears drown: beseech you all, my lords,With thoughts so qualified as your charitiesShall best instruct you, measure me; and soThe king's will be perform'd!”
“I have touched the highest point of all my greatness;And from that full meridian of my gloryI haste now to my setting: I shall fallLike a bright exhalation in the evening,And no man see me more.”
“The setting sun, and music at the close,As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,Writ in remembrance more than things long past.”
“Age, thou hast lost thy labor.”
“But tis strange: And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, the Instruments of Darkness tell us truths, win us with honest trifles, to betray's in deepest consequence.”
“Friendship is constant in all other thingsSave in the office and affairs of love.Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues.Let every eye negotiate for itself,And trust no agent; for beauty is a witchAgainst whose charms faith melteth into blood.”
“You see we do, yet see you but our handsAnd this the bleeding business they have done:Our hearts you see not; they are pitiful”
“For, boy, however we do praise ourselves,Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm,More longing, wavering, sooner lost and won,Than women's are. ...For women are as roses, whose fair flow'rBeing once display'd doth fall that very hour.Viola: And so they are; alas, that they are so!To die, even when they to perfection grow!”
“But, for my own part, it was Greek to me.”
“I read that I profess, the Art of Love.Bianca: And may you prove, sir, master of your art!Lucentio: While you, sweet dear, prove mistress of my heart!”
“Só o teu amor é o inimigo. Ti es ti, aínda que sexas un Montesco. ¿Que é un Montesco? Non é man, nin pé, nin brazo, nin cara, nin parte ningunha do corpo. ¡Cambia o nome!¿Que é un nome? O que chamamos rosa, con outro nome tería o mesmo recendo.Se Romeo non se chamase Romeo,conservaría a súa mesma perfección sen ese título. Romeo, rexeita ese nome que non forma parte de tie a cambio tómame a min.”
“We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; bebrisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.”
“Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mireOf this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'stUp to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!”
“The art of our necessities is strangeThat can make vile things precious.”
“You're in love?OutOut of love?I love someone. She doesn't love me.”
“Naught's had, all's spent,Where our desire is got without content.'Tis safer to be that which we destroyThan by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.”
“In nature there's no blemish but the mind;None can be called deformed but the unkind:Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evilAre empty trunks, o'erflourished by the devil.”
“The ultimate measure of love is not when both like each otherIts when one ignores but the other continues to love till the end.”
“All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.”
“Mów szeptem, jeśli mówisz o miłości.”