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He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter.
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
Mirth
Exercise
Matter
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What showers arise, blown with the windy tempest of my heart
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The summer's flow'r is to the summer sweet, Though to itself it only live and die' But if that flow'r with base infection meet, The basest weed outbraves his dignity: For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)
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The bird that hath been limed in a bush, with trembling wings misdoubteth every bush.
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My love is as a fever, longing still.
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Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news.
William Shakespeare
There is a kind of character in thy life, That to the observer doth thy history, fully unfold.
William Shakespeare
Slander lives upon succession, For ever housed where it gets possession.
William Shakespeare
In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
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The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure.
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Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
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O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note, to drown me in thy sister’s flood of tears.
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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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a wild dedication of yourselves To undiscovered waters, undreamed shores.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
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My desolation does begin to make A better life.
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It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.
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Brevity is the soul of wit.
William Shakespeare
Cowards die many times a brave man dies but once.
William Shakespeare
Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.
William Shakespeare