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Better conquest never canst thou make than arm thy constant and thy nobler parts against giddy, loose suggestions.
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
Make
Suggestions
Never
Conquest
Loose
Thou
Parts
Constant
Canst
Arms
Giddy
Better
Nobler
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage?
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By my soul I swear, there is no power in the tongue of man to alter me.
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Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
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She moves me not, or not removes at least affection's edge in me.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.
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Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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I have touched the highest point of all my greatness.
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Four days will quickly steep themselves in nights Four nights will quickly dream away the time And then the moon, like to a silver bow new bent in heaven, shall behold the night of our solemnities.
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The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.
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Let's take the instant by the forward top For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time Steals ere we can effect them.
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He kills her in her own humor.
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To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
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A plague on both your houses.
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
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Past all shame, so past all truth.
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so full of shapes is fancy
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This wimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy, this Senior Junior, giant dwarf...Cupid.
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Patience is sottish, and impatience does become a dog that's mad.
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