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Virtue preserv'd from fell destruction's blast, Led on by heaven, and crown'd with joy at last.
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
Crowns
Fell
Destruction
Joy
Virtue
Heaven
Lasts
Blast
Last
Crown
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
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Great men may jest with saints 'tis wit in them But, in the less foul profanation.
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Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty.
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Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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Full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen can passage find That the lover, sick to death, Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
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The course of true love never did run smooth.
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That skull had a tongue in it, and could sing once: how the knave jowls it to the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that did the first murder! It might be the pate of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches one that would circumvent God, might it not?
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I hate the murderer, love him murdered.
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A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
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How slow This old moon wanes! she lingers my desires, Like to a stepdame, or a dowager, Long withering out a young man's revenue.
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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The good I stand on is my truth and honesty.
William Shakespeare
Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.
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A heavier task could not have been impos'd, Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable.
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Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
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Thou art most rich, being poor Most choice, forsaken and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.
William Shakespeare
GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
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I am not prone to weeping as our sex commonly are the want of which vain dew perchance shall dry your pities but I have that honorable grief lodged here which burns worse than tears drown.
William Shakespeare