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Honor, riches, marriage-blessing Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you!
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
Joy
Anniversary
Upon
Joys
Stills
Increasing
Still
Wedding
Long
Riches
Blessing
Honor
Hourly
Marriage
Continuance
More quotes by William Shakespeare
This music crept by me upon the waters, Allaying both their fury and my passion With its sweet air: thence I have follow’d it.
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Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
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There is plenty of time to sleep in the grave
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All that glisters is not gold Often have you heard that told.
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Let life be short, else shame will be too long.
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Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn
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Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?
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I take thee at thy word: Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized Henceforth I never will be Romeo.
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By Heaven, I love thee better than myself
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I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.
William Shakespeare
I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
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The love that follows us sometime is our trouble, which still we thank as love.
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This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler and retails his wares.
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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This feather stirs she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
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The robbed that smiles, steals something from the thief.
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as thin of substance as the air, And more inconstant than the wind, who woos Even now the frozen bosom of the north, And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence, Turning his side to the dew-dropping south.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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Love reasons without reason.
William Shakespeare
Is it not strange, that sheep's guts should hale souls out of men's bodies!
William Shakespeare