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My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
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
Enemies
Labouring
Busy
Weaves
Mines
Snares
Mine
Spider
Enemy
Trap
Brain
Tedious
Spiders
Traps
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Come, swear it, damn thyself, lest, being like one of heaven, the devils themselves should fear to seize thee therefore be double-damned, swear,--thou art honest.
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Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
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I scorn you, scurvy companion.
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ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
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Though Death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
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My crown is in my heart, not on my head not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, nor to be seen: my crown is called content, a crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
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If the masses can love without knowing why, they also hate without much foundation.
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Lechery, lechery still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.
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I would fain die a dry death.
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Nor aught so good but strained from that fair use, Revolts from true birth stumbling on abuse.
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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A good sherris-sack hath a twofold operation in it. It ascends me into the brain,... makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes.
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.
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By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.
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What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
William Shakespeare
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
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Report me and my cause aright.
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Making night hideous.
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Throw physic to the dogs I'll none of it.
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