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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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
Tale
Tales
Ancient
Told
Lasts
Last
Urged
Time
Repeating
Troublesome
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Dreams are the children of idled minds.
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They say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony Where words are scarce, they're seldom spent in vain For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.
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I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such immanity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith.
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No matter where of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
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In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away Death's second self, that seals up all in rest. -Sonnet 73
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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by.
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Hold, or cut bowstrings.
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Hope is a lover's staff walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
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Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past, which are devour'd As fast as they are made, forgot as soon as done.
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Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
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Give me that man that is not passion's slave, and I will wear him in my heart's core, in my heart of heart, as I do thee.
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Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
William Shakespeare
The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me.
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I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.
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But O, how bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
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Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.
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I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
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Pride went before, ambition follows him.
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