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She dreams of him that has forgot her love You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
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
Thinking
Pity
Contrary
Cry
Dreams
Makes
Dote
Dream
Forgot
Care
Alas
Love
Cares
More quotes by William Shakespeare
As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
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If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers
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For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
William Shakespeare
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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Time is a very bankrupt and owes more than he's worth to season. Nay, he's a thief too: have you not heard men say, That Time comes stealing on by night and day?
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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
William Shakespeare
Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
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I cannot but remember such things were that were most precious to me.
William Shakespeare
For Brutus is an honourable man So are they all, all honourable men.
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Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.
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And what art thou, thou idol Ceremony? What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?
William Shakespeare
For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
William Shakespeare
Men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty To load a falling man.
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I am thy father's spirit Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.
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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
William Shakespeare
He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire and the dull elements of earth and water never appear in him, but only in patient stillness while his rider mounts him he is indeed a horse, and all other jades you may call beasts.
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Good old grandsire ... we shall be joyful of thy company.
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Love reasons without reason.
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Every great drama has its foreshadow.
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How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
William Shakespeare