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They may seize On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand And steal immortal blessing from her lips, Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin.
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
May
Sin
Steal
Even
Pure
Modesty
Thinking
Hand
Immortal
Wonder
Stealing
White
Kissing
Blush
Hands
Lips
Juliet
Stills
Dear
Kisses
Still
Blessing
Seize
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
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May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves.
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
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Drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things . . . nose-painting, sleep, and urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unprovokes it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.
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Frame your mind to mirth and merriment which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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He that will have a cake out of the wheat must tarry the grinding.
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By the apostle Paul, shadows tonight Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers.
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
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The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me.
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I have of late--but wherefore I know not--lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercise.
William Shakespeare
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow To do our country loss and if to live, The fewer men, the greater share of honour. God's will! I pray thee wish not one man more.
William Shakespeare
Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
William Shakespeare
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?
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Prosperity's the very bond of love, Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together Affliction alters.
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And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.
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If I be waspish, best beware my sting.
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