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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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
Keeps
Crown
King
Crowns
Kings
Hollow
Court
Rulers
Within
Mortal
Death
Temples
Mortals
Rounds
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Love for thy love , and hand for hand I give.
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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.
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Then hate me when thou wilt, if ever, now.
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Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death the memory be green.
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The king hath note of all that they intend, by interception which they dream not of.
William Shakespeare
But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph.
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If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.
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We cannot fight for love, as men may do we shou'd be woo'd, and were not made to woo
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What's his offense? Groping for trout in a peculiar river.
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The rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance.
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But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
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O, when she's angry, she is keen and shrewd! She was a vixen when she went to school And though she be but little, she is fierce.
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Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
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Some say that ever 'gainst the season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long: And then, they say, no spirit can walk abroad The nights are wholesome then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor wi
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
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The nature of bad news affects the teller.
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Conscience is a blushing, shamefaced spirit than mutinies in a man's bosom it fills one full of obstacles.
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Bosom upon my counsel You'll find it wholesome.
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