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And send him many years of sunshine days!
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
Sunshine
Birthday
Send
Days
Many
Years
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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Listen to many, speak to a few.
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Tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home.
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.
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Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise, Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affection, Figures pedantical--these summer flies Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
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What I have done is yours what I have to do is yours being part in all I have, devoted yours.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.
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Small things make base men proud.
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Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.
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Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
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She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.
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Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.
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Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck, And yet methinks I have astronomy. But not to tell of good or evil luck, Of plagues, of dearths, or season's quality Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell ... Or say with princes if it shall go well.
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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
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And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
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My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest, Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
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Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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