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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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
Long
Dancing
Time
Wear
Shall
Hours
Masque
Age
Dances
Away
Bedtime
Three
Supper
Come
Dancer
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Oh, that way madness lies let me shun that.
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I must be cruel only to be kind Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where To lie in cold obstrution and to rot This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sell eternity to get a toy? For one grape who will the vine destroy?
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Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.
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To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.
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Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
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O, call back yesterday, bid time return
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I had as lief have been myself alone.
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Never shame to hear what you have nobly done
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To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
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. . . it is impossible you should take true root but by the fair weather that you make yourself it is needful that you frame the season of your own harvest.
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For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger At whose approach ghosts wandring here and there Troop home to church-yards.... For fear lest day should look their shames upon, They willfully exile themselves from light, And must for aye consort with black brow'd night.
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
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Better a little chiding than a great deal of heartbreak.
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He is winding the watch of his wit by and by it will strike.
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There's some ill planet reigns: I must be patient till the heavens look With an aspect more favourable.
William Shakespeare
You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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O King, believe not this hard-hearted man!
William Shakespeare
Beshrew the heart that makes my heart to groan.
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