William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • James Shakespeare (7/3/2015 8:20:00 AM)

    i like fish annd chips

    77 person liked.
    65 person did not like.
  • Ashek Sarker Ashek Sarker (5/24/2015 7:52:00 AM)

    life is a tale,
    told by an idiot..
    full of sound and fury
    signifying Nothing

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/20/2015 5:58:00 PM)

    dear, i cannot forget your verses from my heart.

  • Artist Nahid (5/17/2015 1:58:00 PM)

    युंहि जझ्बात मुकम्मल नहि होते कातिल... अशियां-ऐ-जनाझा पाना आसां नहि यहां.... Artist 🎨

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (5/8/2015 12:35:00 PM)

    Dear, I like your flowery verses very much.

  • Leonard Ace ''akie'' Almalvez (5/4/2015 12:02:00 AM)

    My favorite author ever, and my inspiration

  • Safuwan Safuwan Safuwan Safuwan (5/3/2015 12:00:00 PM)

    nat niceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

  • p.a. noushad p.a. noushad (3/23/2015 2:26:00 AM)

    nice, your verses inspire me dear.

  • Navneet Singh (2/7/2015 6:02:00 PM)

    Please can you help me to make a poem on 10 words pleasee..... Astronmy, rotation, revolution, geocentric, heliocentric, parallax, orbit, galaxy, asteriod, and collision please can you help me

  • Panmelys Panmelys Panmelys Panmelys (1/15/2015 5:27:00 AM)

    I believe he was a briliant pre-psychiatrist maybe Freud and Dostoievsy had absorbed his works, as many others,
    he's a fresh today as yesterday, and one something new each time they pick up his works. Panmelys.16728

Best Poem of William Shakespeare

All The World's A Stage

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in ...

Read the full of All The World's A Stage

Sonnet Cviii

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case

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