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A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
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
Pox
Tempest
Throat
Dog
Bawling
Blasphemous
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.
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The gates of monarchs Are arched so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on without Good morrow to the sun.
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O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant.
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I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
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And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!
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Where is your ancient courage? You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits That common chances common men could bear That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.
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A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!
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Too early seen unknown, and known too late!
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
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Bosom upon my counsel You'll find it wholesome.
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When beggars die, there are no comets seen the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.
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I love thee none but thee, and thou deservest it
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Use every man after his desert, and who should scape whipping?
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To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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Is she kind as she is fair?
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Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.
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There's such divinity doth hedge a king That treason can but peep to what it would.
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So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. But they are creul tears. This sorrow's heavenly it strikes where it doth love.
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Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility: But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger.
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