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Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies
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
Lust
Lies
Full
Dies
Lying
Truth
Glutton
Love
Lustful
Like
Forged
More quotes by William Shakespeare
To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation: To this point I stand,-- That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes only I'll be reveng'd.
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Past and to come, seems best things present, worse.
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There are many events in the womb of time which will be delivered.
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
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The very instant I saw you, did My heart fly to your service there resides To make me slave to it. ...mine unworthiness, that dare not offer What I desire to give, and much less take What I shall die to want.
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The gates of monarchs Are arched so high that giants may jet through And keep their impious turbans on without Good morrow to the sun.
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Opinion crowns with an imperial voice.
William Shakespeare
But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
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The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue!
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It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
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Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
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Love is like a child, That longs for everything it can come by
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Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle I am no traitor's uncle, and that word grace In an ungracious mouth is but profane.
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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Therefore another prologue must tell he is not a lion
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
William Shakespeare
Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety.
William Shakespeare
I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
William Shakespeare