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But now behold, In the quick forge and working-house of thought, How London doth pour out her citizens!
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
Thought
Pour
Behold
Doth
Quick
London
Citizens
Working
House
Forge
More quotes by William Shakespeare
To bed, to bed sleep kill those pretty eyes, And give as soft attachment to thy senses, As infants empty of all thought.
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Go, bid the soldiers shoot.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
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There's nothing in this world can make me joy: Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
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Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns.
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Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief.
William Shakespeare
Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
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Virtue that transgresses is but patched with sin and sin that amends is but patched with virtue.
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Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend my life.
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Gentle and low, an excellent thing in woman.
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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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O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven keep me in temper I would not be mad!
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Come, Lady, die to live.
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He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.
William Shakespeare
Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Malvolio: Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Feste: But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.
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Despair and die. The ghosts
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for my grief's so great That no supporter but the huge firm earth Can hold it up: here I and sorrows sit Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it. (Constance, from King John, Act III, scene 1)
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