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Thou whoreson zed! Thou unnecessary letter! My lord, if you will give me leave, I will tread this unbolted villain into mortar, and daub the wall of a jakes with him. *all cheer for Shakespearean insults*
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
Letters
Insults
Wall
Tread
Leave
Villain
Lord
Letter
Give
Unnecessary
Shakespearean
Giving
Cheer
Mortar
Insult
Jake
Thou
Lear
More quotes by William Shakespeare
To be honest, as this world goes, is to be one man picked out of ten thousand.
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O sir, you are old nature in you stands on the very verge of her confine you should be ruled and led by some discretion, that discerns your fate better than you yourself.
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What my tongue dares not that my heart shall say
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What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.
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He makes a July's day short as December.
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I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
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A peace is of the nature of a conquest for then both parties nobly are subdued, and neither party loser.
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'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
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O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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No metal can--no, not the hangman's axe--bear half the keenness of thy sharp envy.
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Mercutio: If love be rough with you, be rough with love.
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O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
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Bid the dishonest man mend himself if he mend, he is no longer dishonest.
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What, can the devil speak true?
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Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
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Extremity is the trier of spirits.
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Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.
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O, how wretched is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors.
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