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For 'tis the sport to have the engineer Hoist with his own petar and't shall go hard But I will delve one yard below their mines And blow them at the moon.
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
Sport
Blow
Mines
Hoist
Moon
Delve
Shall
Engineer
Sports
Yard
Hard
Yards
Engineers
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.
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I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows, Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine.
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Time is the king of men.
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What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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Thou seest I have more flesh than another man, and therefore more frailty.
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops. Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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Laughing faces do not mean that there is absence of sorrow! But it means that they have the ability to deal with it
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And to the English court assemble now, From every region, apes of idleness!
William Shakespeare
He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
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Oh, flatter me for love delights in praises.
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The attempt and not the deed confounds us.
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And how his audit stands who knows, save Heaven?
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And mind, with my heart in't and now farewell Till half an hour hence.
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Nature her custom holds, Let shame say what it will.
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
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Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives, Live regist'red upon our brazen tombs And then grace us in the disgrace of death When, spite of cormorant devouring Time, Th' endeavor of this present breath may buy That honor which shall bate his scythe's keen edge And make us heirs of all eternity.
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I thank you all and here dismiss you all, and to the love and favor of my country commit myself, my person, and the cause.
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Benvolio- By my head, here come the Capulets. Mercutio- By my heel, I care not.
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Thine eyes I love, and they as pitying me, Knowing thy heart torment me with disdain, Have put on black, and loving mourners be, Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain.
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