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Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.
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
Content
Poverty
Rich
Poor
Money
Frugality
Enough
Poorest
Contentment
Simplicity
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.
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Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.
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But she makes hungry Where she most satisfies.
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Et tu Brute! (You too, Brutus!)
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Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
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Good wombs have borne bad sons. -- (Miranda, I:2)
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Look, what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east! Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tip-toe on the misty mountain-tops.
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There's no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune.
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Falsehood falsehood cures
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Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.
William Shakespeare
Words, vows, gifts, tears, and love's full sacrifice, He offers in another's enterprise But more in Troilus thousand-fold I see Than in the glass of Pandar's praise may be, Yet hold I off.
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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Thou hast not half that power to do me harm As I have to be hurt.
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... by indirections find directions out.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.
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To go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes
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If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
William Shakespeare
Farewell, fair cruelty.
William Shakespeare
Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
William Shakespeare