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Be bloody, bold, and resolute laugh to scorn the power of man.
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
Scorn
Bold
Bloody
Laugh
Laughing
Power
Apparitions
Men
Resolute
Boldness
More quotes by William Shakespeare
As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
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If you be King, why should not I succeed?
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Educated men are so impressive.
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The cheek Is apter than the tongue to tell an errand.
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Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
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World, world, O world! But that thy strange mutations make us hate thee/ Life would not yield to age.
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Whatever praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
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My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
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O thou that dost inhabit in my breast, leave not the mansion so long tenantless lest, growing ruinous, the building fall and leave no memory of what it was!
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When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air the earth sings when he touches it the basest horn of his hoof is more musical than the pipe of Hermes.
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I could be well content To entertain the lag-end of my life With quiet hours.
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Verily, I swear, it is better to be lowly born, and range with humble livers in content, than to be perked up in a glistering grief, and wear a golden sorrow.
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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O England! Model to thy inward greatness, like little body with a might heart.
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