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Or art thou but / A dagger of the mind, a false creation, / Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
William Shakespeare
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The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest; It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway; It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice.
William Shakespeare
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It is thyself, mine own self's better part; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
William Shakespeare
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Infirm of purpose! Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead are but as pictures: ‘tis the eye of childhood that fears a painted devil
William Shakespeare
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The tempter or the tempted, who sins most?
William Shakespeare
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My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
William Shakespeare
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
William Shakespeare
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I would fain die a dry death.
William Shakespeare
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
William Shakespeare
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Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises, Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears; and sometime voices, That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again: and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open, and show riches Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
William Shakespeare
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Macduff: What three things does drink especially provoke? Porter: Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and urine.
William Shakespeare
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The cat will mew, and dog will have his day.
William Shakespeare
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Day, night, late, early, At home, abroad, alone, in company, Waking or sleeping, still my care hath been To have her match'd; and having now provided A gentleman of princely parentage, Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts, Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man- And then to have a wretched puling fool, A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, To answer 'I'll not wed, I cannot love; I am too young, I pray you pardon me'!
William Shakespeare
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
William Shakespeare
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Ten masts make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle.
William Shakespeare
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Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
William Shakespeare
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Your lordship, though not clean past your youth, have yet some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltiness of time.
William Shakespeare
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As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance
William Shakespeare
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This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong, to love that well which thou must leave ere long.
William Shakespeare
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Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
William Shakespeare
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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.
William Shakespeare
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To business that we love we rise betime, and go to't with delight.
William Shakespeare
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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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Your cause of sorrow must not be measured by his worth, for then it hath no end.
William Shakespeare
