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- What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Romeo and Juliet", Act 2 scene 2
- This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Romeo and Juliet", Act 2 scene 2
- But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Romeo and Juliet", Act 2 scene 1
- Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Titus Andronicus", Act 1 scene 2
- An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told.
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Richard III", Act 4 scene 4
- True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings;
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Richard III", Act 5 scene 2
- A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
- William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Richard III", Act 5 scene 4
- 'T is better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Henry VIII", Act 2 scene 3
- The end crowns all,
And that old common arbitrator, Time, Will one day end it. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Troilus and Cressida", Act 4 scene 5
- Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. - William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "King Richard III", Act 1 scene 1
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