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For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
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
Lying
Part
May
Gild
Happiest
Thee
Terms
Grace
Term
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Will you walk out of the air, my lord? HAMLET Into my grave.
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A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.
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The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
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The blood weeps from my heart when I do shape, In forms imaginary, th' unguided days And rotten times that you shall look upon When I am sleeping with my ancestors.
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We must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures.
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If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.
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Within the hollow crown That rounds the mortal temples of a king Keeps Death his court.
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She speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her she would infect to the north star. I would not marry her, though she were endowed with all that Adam bad left him before he transgressed.
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In limited professions there's boundless theft.
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I’ll look to like, if looking liking move But no more deep will I endart mine eye than your consent gives strength to make it fly.
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Then to Silvia let us sing that Silvia is excelling. She excels each mortal thing upon the dull earth dwelling.
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Value dwells not in particular will It holds his estimate and dignity As well wherein 'tis precious of itself As in the prizer.
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Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
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An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye Give him a little earth for charity!
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I can hardly forbear hurling things at him.
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But say, my lord, it were not regist'red, Methinks the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man, after his studies or his usual pain?
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in that small [time] most greatly lived this star of England: Fortune made his sword, By which the world's best garden he achiev'd And left it to his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd King of France and England did this King succeed Whose state so many of had the managing, That they lost France and made his England bleed.
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You have witchcraft in your lips
William Shakespeare