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Being your slave what should I do but tend, Upon the hours, and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend Nor services to do till you require.
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
Love
Tend
Spend
Stepchildren
Hours
Sonnet
Upon
Services
Times
Require
Desire
Precious
Heart
Till
Time
Slave
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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Make use of time, let not advantage slip.
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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Determine on some course more than a wild exposure to each chance.
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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In the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
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That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, Love can transpose to form and dignity. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. Nor hath Love's mind of any judgment taste Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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. . from this moment The very firstlings of my heart shall be The firstlings of my hand. And even now, To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought and done.
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Let us be Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the shade, minions of the moon
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This day I breathed first: time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end My life is run his compass.
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O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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Now my charms are all o'erthrown.
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Let still woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart, For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner to be lost and warn, Than women's are.
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How art thou out of breath when thou hast breath To say to me that thou art out of breath?
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When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.
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On Rumor's tongue continual slanders ride.
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But men are men the best sometimes forget.
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