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Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.
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
Indifferently
Honour
Eye
Death
Look
Looks
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Sweet are the uses of adversity
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She cannot love, nor take no shape nor project or affection, she is so self-endeared
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O call not me to justify the wrong, That thy unkindness lays upon my heart, Wound me not with thine eye but with thy tongue, Use power with power, and slay me not by art.
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There's daggers in men's smiles.
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Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
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Lords, I protest my soul is full of woe That blood should sprinkle me to make me grow. Come, mourn with me for what I do lament, And put sullen black incontinent. I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land To wash this blood off from my guilty hand. March sadly after. Grace my mournings here In weeping after this untimely bier.
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The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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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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Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
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Go to you bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know.
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Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
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Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.
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The crow doth sing as sweetly as the lark When neither is attended and I think The nightingale, if she should sing by day When every goose is cackling, would be thought No better a musician than the wren. How many thing by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!
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Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.
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What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.
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The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. Pity is the virtue of the law, and none but tyrants use it cruelly.
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He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
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