William Shakespeare Quotes - Page 49 | Just Great DataBase

جنون جوانی مانند خرگوشی است که از لابلای سیم های نصایح خوب فرار میکند.

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Over hill, over dale,Thorough bush, thorough brier,Over park, over pale,Thorough flood, thorough fire,I do wander everywhere,Swifter than the moon's sphere;And I serve the fairy queen,To dew her orbs upon the green.The cowslips tall her pensioners be:In their gold coats spots you see;Those be rubies, fairy favours,In those freckles live their savours:I must go seek some dewdrops hereAnd hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear.Farewell, thou lob of spirits; I'll be gone:Our queen and all our elves come here anon.

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Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful.

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I will go tell him of Hermia's flight:Then to the wood will he to-morrow nightPursue her; and for this intelligenceIf I have thanks, it is a dear expense:But herein mean I to enrich my pain, To have his sight thither and back again.

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They met me in the day of success: and I havelearned by the perfectest report, they have more inthem than mortal knowledge. When I burned in desireto question them further, they made themselves air,into which they vanished. Whiles I stood rapt inthe wonder of it, came missives from the king, whoall-hailed me 'Thane of Cawdor;' by which title,before, these weird sisters saluted me, and referredme to the coming on of time, with 'Hail, king thatshalt be!' This have I thought good to deliverthee, my dearest partner of greatness, that thoumightst not lose the dues of rejoicing, by beingignorant of what greatness is promised thee. Lay itto thy heart, and farewell.

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Farewell, sweet playfellow.

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Banquo:It will rain tonight.First Murderer:Let it come down.

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Get you gone, you dwarf,You minimus of hindering knotgrass made,You bead, you acorn!

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Were such things here as we do speak about?Or have we eaten on the insane rootThat takes the reason prisoner?

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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.

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I wasted time, and now doth time waste me;For now hath time made me his numb'ring clock;My thoughts are minutes, and with sighs they jarTheir watches on unto mine eyes, the outward watch,Whereto my finger, like a dial's point,Is pointing still, in cleansing them from tears.

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What art thou drawn among these heartless hinds? Turn thee Benvolio, look upon thy death.

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Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that Thou hast done to me.Therefore turn and draw.

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Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!

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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet

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Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!

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Therefore love moderately: long love doth so;Too swift as tardy as too slow.

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Have I thought long to see this morning’s face,And doth it give me such a sight as this?

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Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagonerAs Phaethon would whip you to the west,And bring in cloudy night immediately.Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,That runaway's eyes may wink and RomeoLeap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.Lovers can see to do their amorous ritesBy their own beauties; or, if love be blind,It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,And learn me how to lose a winning match,Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,Think true love acted simple modesty.Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;For thou wilt lie upon the wings of nightWhiter than new snow on a raven's back.Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die,Take him and cut him out in little stars,And he will make the face of heaven so fineThat all the world will be in love with nightAnd pay no worship to the garish sun.O, I have bought the mansion of a love,But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this dayAs is the night before some festivalTo an impatient child that hath new robesAnd may not wear them. O, here comes my nurse,And she brings news; and every tongue that speaksBut Romeo's name speaks heavenly eloquence.

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[...] my heart is wondrous light,Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

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