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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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
Thee
Eternity
Summer
Eternal
Shall
Sonnet
Fade
Fades
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Full many a glorious morn I have seen Flatter the mountain-tops with sovereign eye, Kissing with golden face the meadows green, Gilding pale streams with heavenly alchemy.
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How every fool can play upon the word!
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When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath wept: Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: Yet Brutus says he was ambitious And Brutus is an honourable man.
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Passion makes the will lord of the reason.
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To be in anger is impiety, but who is man that is not angry?
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The curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites!
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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...Vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
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The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order.
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in black ink my love may still shine bright.
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Good fortune then! To make me blest or cursed'st among men.
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All that glitters is not gold.
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So many hours must I take my rest So many hours must I contemplate.
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A college of wit-crackers cannot flout me out of my humor. Dost thou think I care for a satire or an epigram?
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What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye
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Give me to drink mandragora.
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Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
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But yet, I say, if imputation and strong circumstances, which lead directly to the door of truth, will give you satisfaction, you may have it.
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And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
William Shakespeare
Thy tongue Makes Welsh as sweet as ditties highly penn'd, Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower, With ravishing division, to her lute.
William Shakespeare