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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
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
Throats
Throat
Thou
Cutting
Art
Best
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O, let me kiss that hand! KING LEAR: Let me wipe it first it smells of mortality.
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And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by, From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother
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O' thinkest thou we shall ever meet again? I doubt it not and all these woes shall serve For sweet discourses in our times to come.
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Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered by a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marle?
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
William Shakespeare
Thy friendship makes us fresh.
William Shakespeare
Who can be patient in extremes?
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The devil shall have his bargain for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.
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There's beggary in love that can be reckoned
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Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.
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Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.
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What are you doing sister? / Killing swine.
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I cannot, nor I will not hold me still My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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Frailty, thy name is woman!
William Shakespeare
I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
William Shakespeare
Good God, the souls of all my tribe defend From jealousy!
William Shakespeare
A beggar's book outworths a noble's blood.
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
William Shakespeare
Well, while I live I'll fear no other thing So sore as keeping safe Nerissa's ring.
William Shakespeare