I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.

William Shakespeare

Mots clés poetry nature as-you-like-it celia



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What soilders whey-face?
The English for so please you.
Take thy face hence.

William Shakespeare


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Though this be madness, yet there is method in't.

William Shakespeare

Mots clés polonius-from-hamlet



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I am afeard there are few die well that die in battle, for how can they charitably dispose of anything when blood is their argument?

William Shakespeare

Mots clés war



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This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea.

William Shakespeare

Mots clés england



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Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day
And make me travel forth without my cloak,
To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way,
Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?

William Shakespeare


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I am a man more sinned against than sinning

William Shakespeare


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Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
Nor the furious winter's rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done,
Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must,
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o' the great;
Thou art past the tyrant's stroke:
Care no more to clothe and eat;
To thee the reed is as the oak:
The sceptre, learning, physic, must
All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning-flash,
Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
Fear not slander, censure rash;
Thou hast finished joy and moan;
All lovers young, all lovers must
Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!
Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
Nothing ill come near thee!
Quiet consummation have;
And renownéd be thy grave!

William Shakespeare


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When beggars die, there are no comets seen; the heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

William Shakespeare


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There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them how we will.

William Shakespeare

Mots clés wisdom



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