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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
Tempest
Throat
Dog
Bawling
Blasphemous
Pox
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Refrain to-night And that shall lend a kind of easiness To the next abstinence, the next more easy For use almost can change the stamp of nature, And either master the devil or throw him out With wondrous potency.
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My heart laments that virtue cannot live Out of the teeth of emulation.
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Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.
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I go, I go, look how I go, swifter than an arrow from a bow
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Men should be what they seem Or those that be not, would they might seem none!.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
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The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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Such as we are made of, such we be.
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Never shame to hear what you have nobly done
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Daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty.
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Your if is the only peacemaker much virtue in if.
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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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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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An angel or, if not, An earthly paragon.
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Have you not a moist eye, a dry hand, a yellow cheek, a white beard, a decreasing leg, an increasing belly? Is not your voice broken, your wind short, your chin double, your wit single, and every part about you blasted with antiquity?
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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
William Shakespeare
I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
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Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.
William Shakespeare