William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

161. Sonnet Cxxx: My Mistress' Eyes Are Nothing Like The Sun 1/3/2003
162. Sonnet Cxxx 5/18/2001
163. Sonnet Cxxviii 5/18/2001
164. Sonnet Cxxvi 5/18/2001
165. Sonnet Cxxv 5/18/2001
166. Sonnet Cxxix 5/18/2001
167. Sonnet Cxxiii 5/18/2001
168. Sonnet Cxxii 5/18/2001
169. Sonnet Cxxi 5/18/2001
170. Sonnet Cxx 5/18/2001
171. Sonnet Cxviii 5/18/2001
172. Sonnet Cxvii 5/18/2001
173. Sonnet Cxvi: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds 1/3/2003
174. Sonnet Cxvi 5/18/2001
175. Sonnet Cxv 5/18/2001
176. Sonnet Cxlviii 5/18/2001
177. Sonnet Cxlvii 5/18/2001
178. Sonnet Cxlvi 12/31/2002
179. Sonnet Cxlv 5/18/2001
180. Sonnet Cxlix 5/18/2001
181. Sonnet Cxliv 5/18/2001
182. Sonnet Cxliii 5/18/2001
183. Sonnet Cxlii 5/18/2001
184. Sonnet Cxli 5/18/2001
185. Sonnet Cxl 5/18/2001
186. Sonnet Cxix 5/18/2001
187. Sonnet Cxiv 5/18/2001
188. Sonnet Cxiii 5/18/2001
189. Sonnet Cxii 5/18/2001
190. Sonnet Cxi: O, For My Sake Do You With Fortune Chide 1/3/2003
191. Sonnet Cxi 5/18/2001
192. Sonnet Cx 5/18/2001
193. Sonnet Cviii 5/18/2001
194. Sonnet Cvii: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor The Prophetic Soul 1/3/2003
195. Sonnet Cvii 5/18/2001
196. Sonnet Cvi 5/18/2001
197. Sonnet Cv 5/18/2001
198. Sonnet Cliv 5/18/2001
199. Sonnet Cliii 5/18/2001
200. Sonnet Clii 5/18/2001
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 Lxvi

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,

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