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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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
Much
Silence
Joy
Happy
Littles
Little
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.
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Romeo: I dreamt a dream tonight. Mercutio: And so did I. Romeo: Well, what was yours? Mercutio: That dreamers often lie. Romeo: In bed asleep while they do dream things true.
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To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
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Don't judge a man's conscience by looking at his face cause he may have a bad heart.
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Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
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Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg for quarrelling.
William Shakespeare
Look on beauty, and you shall see 'tis purchased by the weight which therein works a miracle in Nature, making them lightest that wear most of it: so are those crisped snaky golden locks which make such wanton gambols with the wind upon supposed fairness, often known to be the dowry of a second head, the skull that bred them in the sepulchre.
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Beware the leader who bangs the drums of war in order to whip the citizenry into a patriotic fervor.
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This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory.
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What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
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Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet, And I am proof against their enmity.
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Which means she to deceive, father or mother?
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By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.
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Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.
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Avaunt, you cullions!
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He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends.
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His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.
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I am a kind of burr I shall stick.
William Shakespeare
This is his uncle's teaching, this Worcester, Malevolent to you In all aspects, Which makes him prune himself and bristle up The crest of youth against your dignity.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall with our English dead.
William Shakespeare