story board for English class about a shackspeare play i had to put together myself with abounch of stickers its about bananas and grief. William Shakespeare (bapt.Tooltip baptised 26[a] April 1564 – 23 April 1616)[b] was an English playwright, poet and actor. He is widely regarded as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist.[3][4][5] He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon" (or simply "the Bard"). His extant works, including collaborations, consist of some 39 plays, 154 sonnets, three long narrative poems, and a few other verses, some of uncertain authorship. Shakespeare was born and raised in Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire. At the age of 18, he married Anne Hathaway, with whom he had three children: Susanna, and twins Hamnet and Judith. Sometime between 1585 and 1592, he began a successful career in London as an actor, writer, and part-owner ("sharer") of a playing company called the Lord Chamberlain's Men, later known as the King's Men after the ascension of King James VI of Scotland to the English throne. At age 49. and can i just submit this already plaease jesus christ man lemme submit lemme submit lemme submit lemme submit, god if there is a god just let me submit my porject. please, plaes a? Shakespeare was the son of John Shakespeare, an alderman and a successful glover (glove-maker) originally from Snitterfield in Warwickshire, and Mary Arden, the daughter of an affluent landowning family.[14] He was born in Stratford-upon-Avon, where he was baptised on 26 April 1564. His date of birth is unknown, but is traditionally observed on 23 April, Saint George's Day.[1] This date, which can be traced to William Oldys and George Steevens, has proved appealing to biographers because Shakespeare died on the same date in 1616.[15][16] He was the third of eight children, and the eldest surviving son. Eater graaphicaahomas and John Knoll. Since then, age software has become the mast used tool for professional digital art, especially in arrester graphics editing. efsfThe software's name is often colloquially used as a verb (e.g. "to photoshop an image", "photodashopping", and "photoshop contest") although Adobe discourages such use
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3. Hamlet’s Soliloquy
Shakespeare’s language:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and, by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
Your adaptation:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
whe'r 'tis nobler 'i the mind to suffer
the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
and by opposing end 'em? to die: to sleep;
no moe; and, by a sleep to say we end
the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
that flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
to sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
for 'i that sleep of perpetual wink what dreams may join
when we hast shuffled off this mortal coil,
might not but grant us pause. There's the respect
that makes calamity of so long life;
for whom would bear the whips and scorns of time,
the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely.
(Use the original text to write your adaptation.)
4. Hamlet’s Soliloquy
Shakespeare’s language:
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover’d country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action. Soft you now!
The fair Ophelia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember’d.
Your adaptation:
The pangs of dispriz’d love, the law's delay,
the insolence of place, and the spurns
that patient merit of the indign takes,
when he himself might his quietus compose
with a bare bodkin? whom would fardels bear,
to grunt and sweat under a weary life,
yet that the dread of something after perpetual wink,
the undiscover’d country from whose bourn
no traveller returns, puzzles the shall,
and causes us something bear those ills we hast
than fly to others that we wot not of?
thus conscience doth compose cowards of us all;
and thus the native hue of resolution.
(Use the original text to write your adaptation.)
