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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
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
Eye
Sleeping
Give
Fears
Giving
Pictures
Devil
Childhood
Dead
Infirm
Sleep
Daggers
Purpose
Painted
More quotes by William Shakespeare
You are a lover. Borrow Cupid's wings and soar with them above a common bound.
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Thou sodden-witted lord! thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows.
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You cannot call it love, for at your age the heyday in the blood is tame
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He that is thy friend indeed, He will help thee in thy need: If thou sorrow, he will weep If thou wake, he cannot sleep: Thus of every grief in heart He with thee does bear a part. These are certain signs to know Faithful friend from flattering foe.
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That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
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Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.
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Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should drew us fairly for our end.
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we are the lords of all eternity
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And Caesar shall go forth.
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The people are the city.
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More matter with less art.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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My master hath been an honorable gentleman tricks he hath had in him which gentlemen have.
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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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I have full cause of weeping, but this heart shall break into a hundred thousand flaws or ere I'll weep.
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Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
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I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
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The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.
William Shakespeare
How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
William Shakespeare