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When Death doth close his tender dying eyes.
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
Doth
Tender
Close
Dying
Eyes
Eye
Death
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.
William Shakespeare
I have nothing Of woman in me now from head to foot I am marble-constant.
William Shakespeare
The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
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Make passionate my sense of hearing.
William Shakespeare
And it is very much lamented,... That you have no such mirrors as will turn Your hidden worthiness into your eye That you might see your shadow.
William Shakespeare
O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
William Shakespeare
Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
William Shakespeare
Poor and content, is rich and rich enough But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
William Shakespeare
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? And the creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great image of authority-a dog's obeyed in office.
William Shakespeare
Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red.
William Shakespeare
You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
William Shakespeare
Do not, as some ungracious pastors do, Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine, Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads And recks not his own read.
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Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
William Shakespeare
And oft, my jealousy shapes faults that are not.
William Shakespeare
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, Advantaging their loan with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness.
William Shakespeare
To beguile the time, look like the time. Bear welcome in your eye, your hand, your tongue.
William Shakespeare
All that glitters is not gold.
William Shakespeare
Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered by a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marle?
William Shakespeare