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Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.
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
Blossom
Memorable
Shall
Live
Merrily
Bough
Merriment
Hangs
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speaks mournfully, Trail your steel spikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
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Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee.
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A pair of star-crossed lovers.
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To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans coy looks, with heart-sore sighs one fading moment's mirth
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When our actions do not, our fears make us traitors.
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Some falls the means are happier to rise.
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He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth But like of each thing that in season grows.
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And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.
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I love you more than word can wield the matter, Dearer than eye-sight, space and liberty
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To fear the foe, since fear oppresseth strength, gives in your weakness strength unto your foe.
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Love is the greatest of dreams, yet the worst of nightmares.
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Being your slave what should I do but tend, Upon the hours, and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend Nor services to do till you require.
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I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
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Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
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What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
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I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.
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If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men’s cottages princes’ palaces. It is a good divine that follows his own instructions: I can easier teach twenty what were good to be done, than be one of the twenty to follow mine own teaching.
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