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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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
Deafness
Tempest
Tale
Cure
Cures
Tales
Would
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
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Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.
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Come not between the dragon and his wrath.
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There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
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Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.
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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.
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Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
William Shakespeare
Oppose not rage while rage is in its force, but give it way a while and let it waste.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
William Shakespeare
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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If it be aught toward the general good, Set honor in one eye and death i' th' other, And I will look on both indifferently For let the gods so speed me as I love The name of honor more than I fear death.
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I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due.
William Shakespeare
I can call spirits from the vasty deep.
William Shakespeare
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.
William Shakespeare