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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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
Richer
Tongue
Love
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Nice customs curtsy to great kings.
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I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good.
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The color of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.
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Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.
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I would fain die a dry death.
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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer.
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Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As rav'nous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing.
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I am sir Oracle, and when I ope my lips, let no dog bark.
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Great griefs medicine the less.
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What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
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Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
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We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cased up Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
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Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
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We are oft to blame in this, - 'tis too much proved, - that with devotion's visage, and pios action we do sugar o'er the devil himself.
William Shakespeare
Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him? - Lady Macbeth
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Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.
William Shakespeare