William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

1. Macbeth, Act IV, Scene I 8/9/2016
2. Sonnet Xi 5/21/2001
3. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
4. The Canakin Clink Pub Song (From 'Othello') 2/4/2015
5. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002
6. Sonnet Xcviii 5/21/2001
7. Sonnet Lviii 5/21/2001
8. Sonnet X 5/21/2001
9. Sonnet Xci 5/21/2001
10. Sonnet Lxi 5/21/2001
11. The Procreation Sonnets (1 - 17) 3/29/2010
12. Song of the Witches: "Double, double toil and trouble" 11/20/2015
13. Sonnet Lxiii 5/21/2001
14. Sonnet Lxii 5/21/2001
15. Speech: "Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow" 7/20/2016
16. Sonnet Xcv 5/21/2001
17. Sonnet Lxix 5/21/2001
18. From The Rape Of Lucrece 4/17/2015
19. Where The Bee Sucks (from The Tempest) 6/10/2015
20. Sonnet Lxxxviii 5/21/2001
21. Sonnet Xlix 5/21/2001
22. Sonnet Lvi 5/21/2001
23. Sonnets Xiv 1/4/2003
24. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
25. Sonnets Vi 1/4/2003
26. Speech: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears" 10/22/2015
27. Sonnet Lxv 5/21/2001
28. Sonnet Lix 5/21/2001
29. Sonnet Xxxiii 5/21/2001
30. Sonnet Lxxxi 5/21/2001
31. Sonnet Xli 5/21/2001
32. Sonnet Xl 5/21/2001
33. Sonnet Lxxii 12/31/2002
34. Sonnet Lxxi 12/31/2002
35. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
36. Sonnets Iv 1/4/2003
37. Sonnet Xc 5/21/2001
38. Sonnets To The Sundry Notes Of Music 3/30/2010
39. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
40. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
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 Li

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

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