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Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday
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
Kate
Sunday
Kiss
Kissing
Married
Shall
Love
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He who has injured thee was either stronger or weaker than thee. If weaker, spare him if stronger, spare thyself.
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Young men's love then lies not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.
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I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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Is love a tender thing? It is too rough, too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.
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Boundless intemperance In nature is a tyranny. It hath been Th' untimely emptying of the happy throne And fall of many kings.
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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born.
William Shakespeare
Know my name is lost, By treason's tooth bare-gnawn and canker-bit Yet am I noble as the adversary I come to cope.
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In thy youth wast as true a lover, As ever sighed upon a midnight pillow
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Where is Polonius? HAMLET In heaven. Send hither to see. If your messenger find him not there, seek him i' th' other place yourself. But if indeed you find him not within this month, you shall nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby.
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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War is no strife To the dark house and the detested wife.
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Well, I must be patient there is no fettering of authority.
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Dreams are the children of idled minds.
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Nay, had I pow'r, I should Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Uproar the universal peace, confound All unity on earth.
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The peace of heaven is theirs that lift their swords, in such a just and charitable war.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
William Shakespeare
You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!
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