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His jest will savour but of shallow wit, When thousands weep, more than did laugh at it.
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
Jest
Oath
Weep
Shallow
Wit
Thousands
Laugh
Laughing
Savour
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A gentleman that loves to hear himself talk, will speak more in a minute than he will stand to in a month.
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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'Tis thought the king is dead we will not stay. The bay trees in our country are all wither'd.
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Their savage eyes turned to a modest gaze by the sweet power of music.
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I am very proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at my beck than I have thoughts to put them in, imagination to give them shape, or time to act them in.
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Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course.
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
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Allow not nature more than nature needs.
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Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
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Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite, Encompassed with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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Each substance of a grief has twenty shadows.
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O wretched state! o bosom black as death!
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Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
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They have a plentiful lack of wit.
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Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Oh! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint.
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The time is out of joint.
William Shakespeare
Away, you mouldy rogue, away!
William Shakespeare
Anger is like A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him.
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