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She told her, while she kept it, 'Twould make her amiable and subdue my father Entirely to her love, but if she lost it Or made a gift of it, my father's eye Should hold her loathed and his spirits should hunt After new fancies.
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
Make
Gift
Amiable
Love
Hold
Hunt
Told
Hunts
Eye
Spirits
Father
Fancy
Lost
Entirely
Loathed
Spirit
Charity
Subdue
Made
Kept
Fancies
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Who soars too near the sun, with golden wings, melts them.
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Oh, that way madness lies let me shun that.
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning One pain is less'ned by another's anguish Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
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This is the very ecstasy of love, whose violent property ordoes itself and leads the will to desperate undertakings.
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What infinite heart's-ease Must kings neglect that private men enjoy! And what have kings that privates have not too, Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
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I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!
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Report of fashions in proud Italy Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation Limps after in base imitation
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I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
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Ah me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is!
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now.
William Shakespeare
I will through and through Cleanse the foul body of th' infected world, If they will patiently receive my medicine.
William Shakespeare
My love admits no qualifying dross
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Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. . . .
William Shakespeare
What's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty, Youth's a stuff will not endure.
William Shakespeare
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
William Shakespeare
You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised.
William Shakespeare
Tis the times' plague, when madmen lead the blind.
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The ides of March are come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar but not gone.
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O, she's warm! If this be magic, let it be an art Lawful as eating.
William Shakespeare