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His life was gentle and the elements So mixed in him, that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, THIS WAS A MAN!
William Shakespeare
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William Shakespeare
Age: 51 †
Born: 1564
Born: April 26
Died: 1616
Died: April 23
Actor
Dramaturge
Playwright
Poet
Stage Actor
Writer
Stratford-upon-Avon
Warwickshire
Shakespeare
The Bard
The Bard of Avon
William Shakspere
Swan of Avon
Bard of Avon
Shakespere
Shakespear
Shakspeare
Shackspeare
William Shake‐ſpeare
World
Memorable
Gentle
Elements
Stand
Nature
Might
Julius
Men
Eulogy
Life
Mixed
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The Devil hath power To assume a pleasing shape.
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Rest you fair, good signior Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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In time we hate that which we often fear.
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If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.
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And thou, all-shaking thunder, Strike flat the thick rotundity o' the world! Crack nature's moulds, all germens spill at once That makes ingrateful man!
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I am a kind of burr I shall stick.
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Out of her favour, where I am in love.
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O,speak to me no morethese words like daggers enter my ears.(a fancy way of saying SHUT UP!) — William Shakespeare hamlet
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Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.
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Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just, And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.
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Drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things . . . nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.
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I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
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When love begins to sicken and decay it uses an enforced ceremony.
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Make use of time, let not advantage slip Beauty within itself should not be wasted: Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime Rot and consume themselves in little time.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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Yield not thy neck To fortunes yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
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These are the forgeries of jealousy And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
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Let me have men about me that are fat... Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look. He thinks too much: such men are dangerous.
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