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Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
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
Stands
Worse
Case
Cases
Sharply
Though
Traitor
Feel
Treason
Feels
Woe
Betray
More quotes by William Shakespeare
LEONATO Neighbours, you are tedious. DOGBERRY It pleases your worship to say so, but we are the poor duke's officers but truly, for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a king, I could find it in my heart to bestow it all of your worship.
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My prophecy is but half his journey yet, For yonder walls, that pertly front your town, Yon towers, whose wanton tops do buss the clouds, Must kiss their own feet.
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Thou art a soul in bliss but I am bound Upon a wheel of fire that mine own tears Do scald like molten lead.
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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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I do beseech you- Though I perchance am vicious in my guess , that your wisdom yet From one that so imperfectly conjects Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble Out of his scattering and unsure observance.
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World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
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A king of infinite space
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The one I love is the son of the one I hate! -Juliet p. 75
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If you would persuade, you must appeal to interest rather than intellect. We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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Fit for the mountains and the barbarous caves, where manners ne'er were preached.
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O father Abram, what these Christians are, Whose own hard dealing teaches them suspect The thoughts of others!
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As you from crimes would pardon'd be, Let your indulgence set me free.
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Lay her i' the earth: And from her fair and unpolluted flesh May violets spring! I tell thee, churlish priest, A ministering angel shall my sister be, When thou liest howling. HAMLET. What, the fair Ophelia! QUEEN GERTRUDE. Sweets to the sweet: farewell!
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Time and the hour run through the roughest day.
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Double, double, toil and trouble Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
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What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment, and then have we a prescription to die when death is our physician.
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