Grass-root Level of Learning RHETORIC

Basic Lesson of Rhetoric Learning

What is RHETORIC?

Literally, the term ‘rhetoric’ roots from the Greek word “rhetor” meaning ‘public speaker’ or ‘public orator’. Rhetoric is an art, intended for swaying the feelings or emotions of a hearer or reader. It is the ‘whole art of elegant and effective composition, whether spoken or written. Aristotle, the master philosopher defines ‘rhetoric’ as “the faculty by which we understand what will serve our turn, concerning any subject to win belief in the hearer.” According to Locke, ‘rhetoric’ was the art of speaking with propriety, elegance and force”

On the whole, we may say that rhetoric is the study and practice of communication that persuades, informs, inspires, or entertains target audiences in order to change or reinforce beliefs, values, habits or actions.

Difference between ‘Grammar’ and ‘Rhetoric’

With the rules of composition, both ‘rhetoric’ and ‘grammar’ are inter-connected.

The basic purpose of learning ‘grammar’ is to speak or write a language correctly and clearly. By reading grammar one learns different rules, concerning sentence-structure, pronunciation, spelling, syntax, punctuation, and so on.

Apparently, the fundamental aim of learning rhetoric is to add stylistic beauty and grace to a language just like ornamenting a woman enhance her charm.

What is ‘Figure of Speech’?

The word ‘figure’ (Lat. ‘figura’) means ‘external structure’ or ‘outward shape’. It’s another meaning is ‘remarkable’. So “A figure of speech”, as observed by Bain, “is a deviation from the plain and ordinary way of speaking, for the sake of greater effect.” People are found to use them, often unconsciously or unknowingly, in their ordinary affairs of life. “They are” in the language of Martin, “the warp and woof of somebody’s speech.”

Classification of ‘Figure of Speech’

Generally, there are seven figures of speech:

                                1) Figure based on Similarity

                                2) Figure based on Contrast or Difference

                                3) Figure based on Association

                                4) Figure based on Imagination

                                5) Figure based on Sound

                                6) Figure based on Indirectness

                                7) Figure based on Construction

to be continued

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Role of CHORUS in Tragedy

According to Encyclopaedia Britannica "The chorus in Classical Greek drama was a group of actors who described and commented upon the main action of a play with song, dance, and recitation." Choral music is interwoven into the drama to develop a deeper sense of emotional urgency, to express meaning emotionally rather than simply logically. Of course, Greek tragedies are cool and Broadway musicals suck, but that's a different subject. Most modern lyrical music (as in music with lyrics), whether it's pop, rock, metal, hip-hop, country, whatever, also continues the tradition of using a chorus to further develop verse.  So thinking about the role of a chorus in modern music should help us understand the chorus in tragedy: it is essentially the same.

The origins of the chorus in particular may have stemmed out of ancient rites and rituals with elements of song and dance, and most importantly – the gathering of people. One of the ingredients of Tragedy as specified by Aristotle is thought. Chorus is one of the principal vehicles of thought. Tragedy arouse out of the chorus, whether Dithyrambic or some other sort.

Chorus serves different purposes for the playwright. As there was this clear need to distract the audience while the actors went off-stage to change clothes and costumes, and perhaps prepare for their next role. Aside from the practical the chorus would have had numerous functions in providing a comprehensive and continuous artistic unit. Firstly, according to a view accepted by many scholars, the chorus would provide commentary on actions and events that were taking place before the audience. By doing this the chorus would create a deeper and more meaningful connection between the characters and the audience. Secondly, the chorus would allow the playwright to create a kind of literary complexity only achievable by a literary device controlling the atmosphere and expectations of the audience. Thirdly, the chorus would allow the playwright to prepare the audience for certain key moments in the storyline, build up momentum or slow down the tempo; he could underline certain elements and downplay others.

Also Read:

• Observation on Aristotelian Definition of Tragedy

Chorus, however, plays different role in different tragedies. It is the protagonist in in The Suppliants. In the Prometheus Bound and the Agamemnon, the chorus is the sympathetic observer rather than an active participant. In The Choephorae, it takes a minor sharein the action of misleading Aegisthos, but in The Eumenides, the chorus is a prominent participant in the action.

In Aeschylus’ “Prometheus Bound”, the chorus is composed of Oceanids (nymphs from the ocean, the children of the sea god Oceanus and his wife Tethys). Aeschylus changed the role of the chorus which brought criticisms from Aristotle who his Poetics suggested that “he diminished the importance of the Chorus” (Aristotle 5), and by more modern writers such as H. D. F. Kitto who in his Greek Tragedy: A Literary Study writes “Aeschylus arranges things differently. He makes the chorus do what Greek choruses are supposed never to do: to take a part in the action.” 

In the works of Nietzsche the chorus takes on a completely new and profound philosophical meaning. In his The Birth of Tragedy Nietzsche presents a view of a distinct dissonance between what he calls the Apollonian and the Dionysian paradigms, referencing to the dramatic and choral qualities of Greek drama respectively. In a metaphysical framework the chorus is the essence of the play and embodies a certain Dionysian consciousness which deals with the primal realms of the human condition.

The use of the Chorus in Elizabethan plays derives ultimately from its use in Ancient Greek drama. In Shakespeare's King Henry V (1599), for instance, a play which includes military sieges and battle scenes, the Chorus is used to ask the audience to exercise their imaginations to conceive of such vast doings taking place in so small a theatre. Marlowe employs chorus in Doctor Faustus for a number of functions.

In the modern theatre chorus has become almost of no use. G. B. Shaw has used prefaces and elaborate stage directions which serve the purpose of the Greek chorus.

The chorus comments on the action in lyrical speeches. Thus they add lyrical splendour to the drama and help in transforming horror and pain to beauty and music. It also knows the past, observes the present and has shrewd sense of the future. It participates in the action in the sense that it suffers it consequences.

Aristotle says in his Poetics that chorus “should be an integral part of the whole, and take share in the action.” But in the Problemata he admits that “action is not fitting for the chorus”. The main function of chorus is dancing and singing. Twelve or more persons always standing on the stage can not effectively participate in any action. They interfere with dramatic probability and movement. It has been rightly said that the chorus contributes “in some degree to the progress of the action, by active offices of friendly assistance as, for example, in the Philoctetes, and the Ajax of Sophocles”. (Twining- Aristotle’s Treatise on poetry)

Also Read:

• Observation on Aristotelian Definition of Tragedy
• Would you consider Arthur Miller's, "The Crucible" as a Modern Tragedy?

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"THE RETREAT"- WORD-NOTES AND ANNOTATIONS

 Line No 1-20

Happy-blessed ; full of rapturous joy.  Those early days — referring to the days of the poet’s childhood. The poet was quite happy when he was a child. Shin’d—shone; was bright with. My — the poet’s. Angel-infancy — divine childhood. Childhood is redolent of angelic innocence and pu­rity. In his childhood, the poet was as pure and innocent as an angel. “This place — this earth. Before I…..... place — in his childhood the poet thought the earth to be a reality. Now as he has attained maturity of age and expe­rience, he has realised that the earth is an unreal, unsubstantial place, a dream or a vision.  Appointed — fixed, allotted.  My second race — his second existence.  According to the Platonic doctrine of Reminiscences, the soul of man has a prenatal existence in heaven which is its proper or original home.  Fancy — think.  Aught—anything on earth.   Taught — instructed. A white celestial thought — in his childhood, the poet did not think anything but of God. God is the embodiment of bright light in heaven. The word ‘white’ refers to the symbol of purity.   In his childhood, the poet’s mind was filled with purity, he thought that all objects of nature were invested with a divine radiance. I had....... a mile, or two— the poet did not make a long journey, and the’ result was that he could see the shin­ing, resplendent face of God.

My first love — heaven is the first love of the soul. Looking back — recollecting. At the short space — at the short distance from heaven. Could see ........... face — could see the shining face of God. Here “first love” and “bright face” both signify God.   It is important to note that Vaughan’s mysticism rings here. Gilded — golden colour ; bright. Gilded cloud — the cloud is tinged with the bright golden light of the rising sun. On......... flower — on any beautiful phenomenon of nature. Vaughan thinks of na­ture as a source of revelation. He interprets nature from religious point of view as God’s work. Gazing — looking at something with fixed attention. My gazing soul — the poet’s soul that is filled with deep thought.  Dwell an hour — meditate for some time on its divine beauty as the manifesta­tion of God.  My gazing ........... an hour —the poet’s eager, intent soul would contemplate for an hour. Those weaker glories— the reflection of God’s effulgence in the objects of nature. The light on the objects is efful­gence in the objects of nature. The light on the objects is but a weaker form of the divine resplendence. The idea is Platonic here.  Spy — espy ; see ; find. Shadows — reflected and dimmed glories.  Eternity — eternal God. Shadows of eternity — dimmed reflections of God. What the poet wants to say is that when he was a child, he had the flashes of eternity. In his innocence and purity he recollected the divine types of heavenly life. Would — injure or hurt conscience or feeling.   Before I.......... sound — before he had learnt the language of the sinful men who speak about pro­fane and immoral things of the world without any prick of conscience. In his childhood he had not yet polluted his mind or mouth with foul thoughts and foul language which might hurt the sensibilities of his conscience. Black art — ft commonly refers to magic which is a forbidden art. Here it means knowledge of evil.  Dispense — distribute or allot. Several — separate, distinct. A several........ sense — a separate or distinct sin to each of the fine senses. Dispense .. sense — Men commit sins not through one par­ticular organ but through all organs. The poet did not allow senses to be perverted. Felt-perceived. This fleshly dress — the gross body which is a kind of covering or screen for the soul. This is the garment of flesh with which the soul is clothed. Shoots — glimpses. Everlastingness — eter­nity. Bright shoots of everlastingness — it is a very compact and effective metaphysical ‘conceit’. It is the glory that shoots from the face of the Eternal (God) and penetrates through the barriers of the body into the in­ner soul of man like flashes. It is the senses and sins of man that dim his vision of God but the divine light penetrates into the soul through the gross body


  Line No 21-32

Long — desire much; yearn, travel back — go back. Ancient track — Old path of childhood. To travel....... track — to retrace his steps and go back to the innocent days of his childhood. This is the sense of “Retreat” which is the title of the poem. Vaughan hates the life of worldliness and worldly sins. He wants to escape from it into the world of innocence and purity which he possessed in his childhood. That plain — heaven, the city of God. Reach the plain — arrive at heaven where innocence, perfection and purity prevail. The glorious train — the band of angels in heaven; the company of saints. Where I first........ train — the soul, before being born on the earth, was in heaven, because heaven is the original home of the j soul. In heaven God and the angels were an abiding presence. As soon as the soul is born, it becomes detached from heaven and the glorious com­pany of angels. Enlightened — illuminated; emancipated.   The enlight­ened spirit — death liberates the soul from the bondage of the mortal body and brings it to heaven, which is the original home of the soul. After death, the soul of man becomes illumined. Sees — finds. That........ palm trees — the city of God, i.e., heaven.  In the Bible heaven is portrayed as the city of palm trees. Too much stay — long residence in the world where all pleasure abound.  Drunk — intoxicated with the pleasures of the senses enjoyed for long.  My soul...... drunk — the poet admits that his soul is intoxicated with worldly pursuits and mundane affairs, and thus his soul is darkened. Staggers — reels; falters. Forward motion — going forward. Some man ....... love — generally people march forward in the path of life, grow up and advance in years and experience, power and wealth, etc., but the poet seeks to march backwards.   But I ......... move — the poet will move backward in search of childhood innocence and purity which he en­joyed in his childhood. This dust — it refers to the human body which is believed to be made of dust ; the earthly or moral body. Falls to the urn — lies buried in the grave. In that.......... return — Vaughan says that it is not possible for an aged person to become a child to regain his childhood in­nocence and purity. It is death which can alone liberate his soul from the mortal body, and the soul will be reborn on the earth, and thus he will go back to his former innocence and perfection.

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Henry Vaughan's Poem "The Retreat" Full Text

Text

The Retreat

By Henry Vaughan

The poem is extracted from Vaughan's main Volume Silex Scintillans (1650 &1655)

Happy those early days! when I

Shined in my angel infancy.

Before I understood this place

Appointed for my second race,

Or taught my soul to fancy aught

But a white, celestial thought;

When yet I had not walked above

A mile or two from my first love,

And looking back, at that short space,

Could see a glimpse of His bright face;

When on some gilded cloud or flower

My gazing soul would dwell an hour,

And in those weaker glories spy

Some shadows of eternity;

Before I taught my tongue to wound

My conscience with a sinful sound,

Or had the black art to dispense

A several sin to every sense,

But felt through all this fleshly dress

Bright shoots of everlastingness.

       O, how I long to travel back,

And tread again that ancient track!

That I might once more reach that plain

Where first I left my glorious train,

From whence th’ enlightened spirit sees

That shady city of palm trees.

But, ah! my soul with too much stay

Is drunk, and staggers in the way.

Some men a forward motion love;

But I by backward steps would move,

And when this dust falls to the urn,

In that state I came, return.

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Text : "Araby"- A Short Story by James Joyce

Araby- The Grand Oriental Fete

North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the hour when the Christian Brothers' School set the boys free. An uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street, conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown imperturbable faces.

The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout Communicant, and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes, under one of which I found the late tenant's rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions and the furniture of his house to his sister.

When the short days of winter came, dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of sky above us was the colour of ever-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy lanes behind the houses, where we ran the gauntlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to the back doors of the dark dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from the buckled harness. When we returned to the street, light from the kitchen windows had filled the areas. If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed. Or if Mangan's sister came out on the doorstep to call her brother in to his tea, we watched her from our shadow peer up and down the street. We waited to see whether she would remain or go in and, if she remained, we left our shadow and walked up to Mangan's steps resignedly. She was waiting for us, her figure defined by the light from the half-opened door. Her brother always teased her before he obeyed, and I stood by the railings looking at her. Her dress swung as she moved her body, and the soft rope of her hair tossed from side to side.

Every morning I lay on the floor in the front parlour watching her door. The blind was pulled down to within an inch of the sash so that I could not be seen. When she came out on the doorstep my heart leaped. I ran to the hall, seized my books and followed her. I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her. This happened morning after morning. I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

Her image accompanied me even in places the most hostile to romance. On Saturday evenings when my aunt went marketing I had to go to carry some of the parcels. We walked through the flaring streets, jostled by drunken men and bargaining women, amid the curses of labourers, the shrill litanies of shop-boys who stood on guard by the barrels of pigs' cheeks, the nasal chanting of street-singers, who sang a come-all-you about O'Donovan Rossa, or a ballad about the troubles in our native land. These noises converged in a single sensation of life for me: I imagined that I bore my chalice safely through a throng of foes. Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand. My eyes were often full of tears (I could not tell why) and at times a flood from my heart seemed to pour itself out into my bosom. I thought little of the future. I did not know whether I would ever speak to her or not or, if I spoke to her, how I could tell her of my confused adoration. But my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.

One evening I went into the back drawing-room in which the priest had died. It was a dark rainy evening and there was no sound in the house. Through one of the broken panes I heard the rain impinge upon the earth, the fine incessant needles of water playing in the sodden beds. Some distant lamp or lighted window gleamed below me. I was thankful that I could see so little. All my senses seemed to desire to veil themselves and, feeling that I was about to slip from them, I pressed the palms of my hands together until they trembled, murmuring: 'O love! O love!' many times.

At last she spoke to me. When she addressed the first words to me I was so confused that I did not know what to answer. She asked me was I going to Araby. I forgot whether I answered yes or no. It would be a splendid bazaar; she said she would love to go.

'And why can't you?' I asked.

While she spoke she turned a silver bracelet round and round her wrist. She could not go, she said, because there would be a retreat that week in her convent. Her brother and two other boys were fighting for their caps, and I was alone at the railings. She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.

'It's well for you,' she said.

'If I go,' I said, 'I will bring you something.'

What innumerable follies laid waste my waking and sleeping thoughts after that evening! I wished to annihilate the tedious intervening days. I chafed against the work of school. At night in my bedroom and by day in the classroom her image came between me and the page I strove to read. The syllables of the word Araby were called to me through the silence in which my soul luxuriated and cast an Eastern enchantment over me. I asked for leave to go to the bazaar on Saturday night. My aunt was surprised, and hoped it was not some Freemason affair. I answered few questions in class. I watched my master's face pass from amiability to sternness; he hoped I was not beginning to idle. I could not call my wandering thoughts together. I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play.

On Saturday morning I reminded my uncle that I wished to go to the bazaar in the evening. He was fussing at the hallstand, looking for the hat-brush, and answered me curtly:

'Yes, boy, I know.'

As he was in the hall I could not go into the front parlour and lie at the window. I felt the house in bad humour and walked slowly towards the school. The air was pitilessly raw and already my heart misgave me.

When I came home to dinner my uncle had not yet been home. Still it was early. I sat staring at the clock for some time and, when its ticking began to irritate me, I left the room. I mounted the staircase and gained the upper part of the house. The high, cold, empty, gloomy rooms liberated me and I went from room to room singing. From the front window I saw my companions playing below in the street. Their cries reached me weakened and indistinct and, leaning my forehead against the cool glass, I looked over at the dark house where she lived. I may have stood there for an hour, seeing nothing but the brown-clad figure cast by my imagination, touched discreetly by the lamplight at the curved neck, at the hand upon the railings and at the border below the dress.

When I came downstairs again I found Mrs Mercer sitting at the fire. She was an old, garrulous woman, a pawnbroker's widow, who collected used stamps for some pious purpose. I had to endure the gossip of the tea-table. The meal was prolonged beyond an hour and still my uncle did not come. Mrs Mercer stood up to go: she was sorry she couldn't wait any longer, but it was after eight o'clock and she did not like to be out late, as the night air was bad for her. When she had gone I began to walk up and down the room, clenching my fists. My aunt said:

'I'm afraid you may put off your bazaar for this night of Our Lord.'

At nine o'clock I heard my uncle's latchkey in the hall door. I heard him talking to himself and heard the hallstand rocking when it had received the weight of his overcoat. I could interpret these signs. When he was midway through his dinner I asked him to give me the money to go to the bazaar. He had forgotten.

'The people are in bed and after their first sleep now,' he said.

I did not smile. My aunt said to him energetically:

'Can't you give him the money and let him go? You've kept him late enough as it is.'

My uncle said he was very sorry he had forgotten. He said he believed in the old saying: 'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.' He asked me where I was going and, when I told him a second time, he asked me did I know The Arab's Farewell to his Steed. When I left the kitchen he was about to recite the opening lines of the piece to my aunt.

I held a florin tightly in my hand as I strode down Buckingham Street towards the station. The sight of the streets thronged with buyers and glaring with gas recalled to me the purpose of my journey. I took my seat in a third-class carriage of a deserted train. After an intolerable delay the train moved out of the station slowly. It crept onward among ruinous houses and over the twinkling river. At Westland Row Station a crowd of people pressed to the carriage doors; but the porters moved them back, saying that it was a special train for the bazaar. I remained alone in the bare carriage. In a few minutes the train drew up beside an improvised wooden platform. I passed out on to the road and saw by the lighted dial of a clock that it was ten minutes to ten. In front of me was a large building which displayed the magical name.

I could not find any sixpenny entrance and, fearing that the bazaar would be closed, I passed in quickly through a turnstile, handing a shilling to a weary-looking man. I found myself in a big hall girded at half its height by a gallery. Nearly all the stalls were closed and the greater part of the hall was in darkness. I recognized a silence like that which pervades a church after a service. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly. A few people were gathered about the stalls which were still open. Before a curtain, over which the words Café Chantant were written in coloured lamps, two men were counting money on a salver. I listened to the fall of the coins.

Remembering with difficulty why I had come, I went over to one of the stalls and examined porcelain vases and flowered tea-sets. At the door of the stall a young lady was talking and laughing with two young gentlemen. I remarked their English accents and listened vaguely to their conversation.

'O, I never said such a thing!'

'O, but you did!'

'O, but I didn't!'

'Didn't she say that?'

'Yes. I heard her.'

'O, there's a... fib!'

Observing me, the young lady came over and asked me did I wish to buy anything. The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. I looked humbly at the great jars that stood like eastern guards at either side of the dark entrance to the stall and murmured:

'No, thank you.'

The young lady changed the position of one of the vases and went back to the two young men. They began to talk of the same subject. Once or twice the young lady glanced at me over her shoulder.

I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real. Then I turned away slowly and walked down the middle of the bazaar. I allowed the two pennies to fall against the sixpence in my pocket. I heard a voice call from one end of the gallery that the light was out. The upper part of the hall was now completely dark.

Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger.

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William Shakespeare : A Short Biographical Sketch

William Shakespeare

Name : William Shakespeare
Known as : "Bard of Avon"
Date of Birth : April 23, 1564 (On assumption, as he was baptized in Holy Trinity Church on April 26)
Birth Place : Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England.
Father : Richard Shakespeare, a dealer of agricultural product by profession
Mother : Mary Shakespeare, daughter of Robert Arden of Wilmcote
Early Education : No definiteness, may be in Stratford Grammar School
Spouse : Anne Hathway ( Eight years older than her husband, William)
Children : Susana Hall & Judith Quiney (daughters), Hamnet Shakespeare (only son)
Occupation : Playwright, Poet & Actor
Literary Period : Elizabethan Age

As a Poet : From 1592 to 1594 the theatrical companies in London were somewhat disorganized because of the plague. Shakespeare utilized the time beautifully by showing us his talent in verse writing. His first long narrative poem is "Venus and Adonis" (1593). He composed 154 sonnets which were published in the volume, Shakespeare's Sonnet in 1609. His Sonnets, 1-126 are dedicated to his bosom friend, Mr. W. H. and 127-154 to the Dark Lady. But the identity of Mr. W.H. and the Dark Lady is still in mystery.

 Popular Sonnets : 1) Sonnet 18 : Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
                        2) Sonnet 60 : Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore
                        3) Sonnet 65 : Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea
                        4) Sonnet 116 :  Let me not to the marriage of true minds
                        5) Sonnet 130 :  My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun

Sonnet Style, Structure and Form :
                         Shakespeare's sonnets are written predominantly in iambic pentameter.
                          There are fourteen lines in a Shakespearean sonnet. The first twelve lines are divided into three quatrains with four lines each. In the three quatrains the poet establishes a theme or problem and then resolves it in the final two lines, called the couplet. The rhyme scheme of the quatrains is abab cdcd efef. The couplet has the rhyme scheme gg.

As a Popular Playwright :  As a phenomenal playwright his creative career is divided into four periods:
                         First Period (1590-1594)- experiment and external influence (The Comedy of Errors, Love's Labour's Lost, Romeo and Juliet etc.)
                         Second Period (1595-1599)- mature power in comedy and historical plays (Henry IV, Julius Ceaser, As You Like It, Twelfth Night etc.)
                         Third Period (1600-1609)- satire and tragedy (Troilus & Cressida, Macbeth, Hamlet, King Lear, Othelo etc.)
                         Fourth Period (1608-1611)- romance (The Tempest, etc)
The Winter's Tale

His Frequently Quoted Lines : 

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet".  Romeo and Juliet ( Quote Act II, Sc. II) 
.
 "Fair is foul, and foul is fair". - Macbeth ( Quote Act I, Scene I)

 "To be, or not to be: that is the question". Hamlet  (Act III, Sc. I).

 "The course of true love never did run smooth."

 "Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them."

"A fool thinks himself to be wise, but a wise man knows himself to be a fool."

"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." 

"What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god."

"Love's not Time's fool"

"Love is not love which alters when it alternation finds"

                        

Thank u all.

                                           

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