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The prize of all too precious 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
Prize
Precious
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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I came, saw, and overcame.
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What's done can't be undone.
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Well, if Fortune be a woman, she's a good wench for this gear.
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Un-thread the rude eye of rebellion, and welcome home again discarded faith.
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We must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
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Dirty days hath September April June and November From January up to May The rain it raineth every day All the rest have thirty-one Without a blessed gleam of sun And if any of them had two-and-thirty They'd be just as wet and twice as dirty. April hath put a spirit of youth in everything.
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Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.
William Shakespeare
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence
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My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
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Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof little more than a little is by much too much.
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I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
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Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
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I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched in so many giddy offences as He hath generally taxed their whole their whole sex withal.
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O, what damned minutes tells he o'er Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet fondly loves!
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If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud you again.
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Can we outrun the heavens?
William Shakespeare
The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
William Shakespeare