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A sad tale's best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins.
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
Best
Sprites
Goblins
Goblin
Tale
Tales
Winter
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!
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The devil shall have his bargain for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.
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Grief hath two tongues and never woman yet Could rule them both without ten women's wit.
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I say there is no darkness but ignorance.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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For now I stand as one upon a rock environed with a wilderness of sea, who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, expecting ever when some envious surge will in his brinish bowels swallow him.
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The most peerless piece of earth, I think, that e' er the sun shone bright on.
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I heard a bird so sing, Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.
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Present mirth hath present laughter. What's to come is still unsure.
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Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
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Good Lord, for alliance! Thus goes every one to the world but I, and I am sunburnt I may sit in a corner and cry heigh-ho for a husband!
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The fear's as bad as falling.
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God's will! my liege, would you and I alone, Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
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Then is it sin to rush into the secret house of death. Ere death dare come to us?
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Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.
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Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
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Shall we upon the footing of our land Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive?
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Beauty itself doth of itself persuade the eyes of men without an orator.
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Be to yourself as you would to your friend.
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