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What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
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
Hurl
Contempt
Wish
Often
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
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Plutus himself, That knows the tinct and multiplying med'cine, Hath not in nature's mystery more science Than I have in this ring.
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Winter, which, being full of care, makes summer's welcome thrice more wish'd, more rare.
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Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks
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Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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O wretched state! o bosom black as death!
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Fare thee well, king: sith thus thou wilt appear, Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here.
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Blessings of your heart, you brew good ale.
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O no, thy love though much, is not so great, It is my love that keeps mine eye awake, Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat, To play the watchman ever for thy sake. For thee watch I, whilst thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near.
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I almost die for food, and let me have it!
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Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker.
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Condemn the fault and not the actor of it?
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Through tattered clothes great vices do appear Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
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Were kisses all the joys in bed, One woman would another wed.
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Reason thus with life: If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep.
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It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.
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He kills her in her own humor.
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Thou unfit for any place but hell.
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To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
William Shakespeare
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
William Shakespeare