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So may he rest, his faults lie gently on him!
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
Gently
Memorable
Faults
Rest
Lying
May
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I will make thee think thy swan a crow.
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Unnatural deeds do breed unnatural troubles.
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Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
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When I waked, I cried to dream again
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Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.
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Moderate lamentation is the right of the dead, excessive grief the enemy to the living.
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O teach me how I should forget to think (1.1.224)
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O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?
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Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none. This above all: to thine own self be true. No legacy is so rich as honesty. Brevity is the soul of wit
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When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.
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The sweat of industry would dry and die, But for the end it works to.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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The time of universal peace is near. Prove this a prosp'rous day, the three-nooked world Shall bear the olive freely.
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The heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.
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Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects treachery?
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Much rain wears the marble.
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O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven keep me in temper I would not be mad!
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
William Shakespeare
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
William Shakespeare