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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
What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all, all shall die.
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The fool multitude, that choose by show, not learning more than the fond eye doth teach.
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To you your father should be as a god.
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Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss.
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No doubt they rose up early to observe the rite of May and, hearing our intent, Came here in grace of our solemnity.
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Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.
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Suit the action to the word : the word to the action : with this special observance that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.
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Though authority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft let by the nose with gold.
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O war! thou son of Hell!
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I am one, sir, that comes to tell you your daughter and the Moor are now making the beast with two backs.(IAGO,ActI,SceneI)
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All hoods make not monks.
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Give me a bowl of wine. I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have.
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Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent.
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As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.
William Shakespeare
Every offense is not a hate at first.
William Shakespeare
If I lose my honor, I lose myself: better I were not yours Than yours so branchless.
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