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Double, double, toil and trouble Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
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
Fire
Halloween
Play
Witch
Gargoyles
Bubbles
Cauldron
Toil
Cauldrons
Double
Apparitions
Burn
Toiling
Memorable
Spooky
Trouble
Bubble
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Women are angels, wooing: Things won are done joy's soul lies in the doing: That she beloved knows naught, that knows not this-- Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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Drown thyself? Drown cats and blind puppies.
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[Thine] face is not worth sunburning.
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Cold indeed, and labor lost: Then farewell heat, and welcome frost!
William Shakespeare
Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
William Shakespeare
A victory is twice itself when the achiever brings home full numbers.
William Shakespeare
I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight.
William Shakespeare
What the great ones do, the less will prattle of
William Shakespeare
Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him some that he was begot between two stock-fishes. But it is certain that when he makes water his urine is congealed ice.
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What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?
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By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate And with my hand I seal my true heart's love
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How poor are they that have have not patients.
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For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
William Shakespeare
A merry heart goes all the way, - A sad one tires inan hour.
William Shakespeare
Here's flowers for you Hot lavender, mints, savoury, marjoram The marigold, that goes to bed wi' the sun And with him rises weeping: these are flowers Of middle summer, and I think they are given To men of middle age.
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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
William Shakespeare
O tiger's heart wrapped in a woman's hide!
William Shakespeare
The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
William Shakespeare