William Shakespeare

The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

William Shakespeare is acknowledged as the greatest dramatist of all time. He excels in plot, poetry and wit, and his talent encompasses the great tragedies of Hamlet, King Lear, Othello and Macbeth as well as the moving history plays and the comedies such as A Midsummer Night’s Dream, The Taming of the Shrew and As You Like It with their magical combination of humour, ribaldry and tenderness. This volume is a reprint of the Shakespeare Head Press edition, and it presents all the plays in chronological order in which they were written. It also includes Shakespeare’s Sonnets, as well as his longer poems Venus and Adonis and The Rape of Lucrece.
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İzlenimler

    Heather Lowebir izlenim paylaşıldı7 yıl önce
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    I love all of his works!I remember watching a few of the plays in london

    b3638129114bir izlenim paylaşıldı2 yıl önce
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    Jagoda Adamarczukbir izlenim paylaşıldı7 yıl önce
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Alıntılar

    ianodebealıntı yaptı9 yıl önce
    Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest, Now is the time that face should form another, Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest, Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother. For where is she so fair whose uneared womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry? Or who is he so fond will be the tomb, Of his self-love to stop posterity? Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime, So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles this thy golden time. But if thou live remembered not to be, Die single and thine image dies with thee.
    espotterfalıntı yaptı3 yıl önce
    ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL
    by William Shakespeare
    Кирис Батьковнalıntı yaptı4 yıl önce
    Look in thy glass and tell the face thou viewest,
    Now is the time that face should form another,
    Whose fresh repair if now thou not renewest,
    Thou dost beguile the world, unbless some mother.
    For where is she so fair whose uneared womb
    Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry?
    Or who is he so fond will be the tomb,
    Of his self-love to stop posterity?
    Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee

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