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The quality of mercy is not strained
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
Shylock
Strained
Merchants
Venice
Mercy
Justice
Quality
More quotes by William Shakespeare
O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgined it e'er since.
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Every offense is not a hate at first.
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The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.
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Swift as shadow, short as any dream
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Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
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Who can control his fate?
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What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, for one to thrust his hand between his teeth, when he might spurn him with his foot away?
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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The sight of lovers feedeth those in love.
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This sleep is sound indeed this is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd So many English kings.
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Too much to know is to know nought but fame And every godfather can give a name.
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To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
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Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
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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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I am but mad north-north-west. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw.
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Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares.
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It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding Sweet lovers love the spring.
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it is my lady! *sighs* o, it is my love! o, that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she sais nothing. what of that? her eye discourses i will answer it. i am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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Which can say more than this rich praise, that you alone are you?
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