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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
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
Sweet
Dies
Though
Live
Summer
Flower
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Fill all thy bones with aches.
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We must not make a scarecrow of the law, Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror.
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A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.
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Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
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Under the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me And tune his merry note, Unto the sweet bird's throat Come hither, come hither, come hither. Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather.
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Women's weapons, water-drops.
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That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
William Shakespeare
The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cased up Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
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No evil lost is wailed when it is gone.
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Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.
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Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared
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Time and the hour run through the roughest day.
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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I almost die for food, and let me have it!
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.
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The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.
William Shakespeare
Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
William Shakespeare