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Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast! Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest.
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
Sleep
Eyes
Upon
Thine
Eye
Breast
Peace
Dwell
Would
Breasts
Sweet
Rest
More quotes by William Shakespeare
My endeavors Have ever come too short of my desires. Yet filed with my abilities.
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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
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The sweets we wish for, turn to loathed sours, Even in the moment that we call them ours.
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The proverb is something musty.
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Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday
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Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, To signify thou camest to bite the world.
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Thou hast nor youth nor age But as it were an after dinner sleep Dreaming of both.
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Methinks a father Is at the nuptial of his son a guest That best becomes the table.
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Heaven - the treasury of everlasting life.
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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I can get no remedy against this consumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable.
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It is lost at dice, what ancient honor won.
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Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile Filths savour but themselves.
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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Friendship is full of dregs.
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The apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
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And in the morn and liquid dew of youth, Contagious blastments are are most imminent.
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