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The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.
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
Almost
Tongue
Fear
Bed
Night
Lovers
Morn
Much
Watches
Midnight
Time
Watch
Hath
Coming
Twelve
Told
Iron
Shall
Fairy
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order.
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The arms are fair, When the intent of bearing them is just.
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Such antics do not amount to a man.
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Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
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Thou unfit for any place but hell.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
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Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
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Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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Nature teaches beasts to know their friends.
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To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
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I wish my horse had the speed of your tongue.
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A stirring dwarf we do allowance give Before a sleeping giant.
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Farewell the tranquil mind! farewell content! Farewell the plumed troops, and the big wars That make ambition virtue.
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Why, all delights are vain but that most vain, Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain.
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The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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Ideas are the very coinage of your brain.
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When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.
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Well-apparel'd April on the heel Of limping Winter treads.
William Shakespeare