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If I for my opinion bleed, opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, and keep me on the side where still I am.
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
Shall
Sides
Hurt
Opinion
Surgeon
Keep
Bleed
Stills
Surgeons
Still
Side
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow We are such stuff as dreams are made of.
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in black ink my love may still shine bright.
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Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.
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To fear the worst oft cures the worst.
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The iron tongue of Midnight hath told twelve lovers, to bed 'tis almost fairy time. I fear we shall outstep the coming morn as much as we this night over-watch'd.
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Opinion, a sovereign mistress of effects.
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Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life.
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Discomfort guides my tongue And bids me speak of nothing but despair.
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As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.
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Let none presume To wear an undeserved dignity.
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The hideous god of war.
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep To sleep, perchance to dream—For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause, there's the respect, That makes calamity of so long life
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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born.
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Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, now let me die, for I have lived long enough.
William Shakespeare
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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With these shreds They vented their complainings, which being answered And a petition granted them, a strange one, To break the heart of generosity, And make bold power look pale, they threw their caps As they would hang them on the horns o' th' moon, Shouting their emulation.
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