William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

41. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
42. Sonnet Xc 5/21/2001
43. Antony and Cleopatra, Act II, Scene II [The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne] 3/23/2016
44. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
45. Sonnet Xxxvi 5/21/2001
46. Sonnets Iii 1/4/2003
47. Sonnet Lxxiii 12/31/2002
48. Sonnet Lxxxv 5/21/2001
49. Sonnet Lxxxix 5/21/2001
50. Sonnets Xix: Devouring Time, Blunt Thou The Lion's Paws 1/1/2004
51. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
52. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
53. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
54. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
55. William Shakespeare Epitaph 10/20/2015
56. Sonnets Vi 1/4/2003
57. Sonnet Lxx 12/31/2002
58. Sonnet Xi 5/21/2001
59. Sonnet Lxxviii 5/21/2001
60. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
61. Sonnet Xiv 5/21/2001
62. Sonnet Xli 5/21/2001
63. Sonnet Xl 5/21/2001
64. Sonnet Vi 5/21/2001
65. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
66. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
67. Where The Bee Sucks (from The Tempest) 6/10/2015
68. Sonnets Xiv 1/4/2003
69. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
70. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
71. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
72. Sonnet Xciii 5/21/2001
73. Sonnet Xvi 5/21/2001
74. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
75. Sonnets Liii: What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made 1/1/2004
76. Sonnet Xlii 5/21/2001
77. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
78. Sonnet V: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/3/2003
79. Sonnet Xxii 5/21/2001
80. Sonnet Iv: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend 1/3/2003
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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