William+Shakespeare

=Maria= = William Shakespeare =



=**William Shakespeare** (26 April 1564; died 23 April 1616) was an [|English] [|poet] and [|playwright], widely regarded as the greatest writer in the [|English language]. He is often called England's [|national poet] and the "Bard of Avon". His surviving works, including some [|collaborations], consist of about 38 [|plays] , 154 [|sonnets] , two long [|narrative poems] , and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright. At the age of 18, he married [|Anne Hathaway], with whom he had three children: [|Susanna] , and twins [|Hamnet] and [|Judith]. Shakespeare was a respected poet and playwright in his own day, but his reputation did not rise to its present heights until the 19th century. In the 20th century, his work was repeatedly adopted and rediscovered by new movements in scholarship and performance. His plays remain highly popular today and are constantly studied, performed and reinterpreted in diverse cultural and political contexts throughout the world.=

I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins That almost freezes up the heat of life: I'll call them back again to comfort me;-- Nurse!--What should she do here? My dismal scene I needs must act alone.-- Come, vial.-- What if this mixture do not work at all? Shall I be married, then, to-morrow morning?-- No, No!--this shall forbid it:--lie thou there.-- What if it be a poison, which the friar Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd, Because he married me before to Romeo? I fear it is: and yet methinks it should not, For he hath still been tried a holy man:-- I will not entertain so bad a thought.-- How if, when I am laid into the tomb, I wake before the time that Romeo Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point! Shall I not then be stifled in the vault, To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Or, if I live, is it not very like The horrible conceit of death and night, Together with the terror of the place,-- As in a vault, an ancient receptacle, Where, for this many hundred years, the bones Of all my buried ancestors are pack'd; Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort;-- Alack, alack, is it not like that I, So early waking,--what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;-- O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught, Environed with all these hideous fears? And madly play with my forefathers' joints? And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud? And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone, As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?-- O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body Upon a rapier's point:--stay, Tybalt, stay!-- Romeo, I come! this do I drink to thee.
 * == ** Juliet's Soliloquy ** == ||
 * || Farewell!--God knows when we shall meet again.

William Shakespeare ||