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As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods they kill us for their sport.
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
Wanton
Sports
Flies
Religious
Classic
Gloucester
Sport
Cordelia
Gods
Squash
God
Lear
Kill
Insignificance
Boys
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Take her away for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
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Stars, hide your fires Let not light see my black and deep desires.
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A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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How poor are they that have have not patients.
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Retire me to my Milan, where Every third thought shall be my grave.
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I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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Self-love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self-neglecting.
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Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
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An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England.
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Grief best is pleased with grief's society.
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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my means, Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends, But they shall find awaked in such a kind Both strength of limb and policy of mind, Ability in means, and choice of friends, To quit me of them throughly.
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In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
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Cowards die many times before their deaths the valiant never taste of death but once.
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
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Doubt is a thief that often makes us fear to tread where we might have won.
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The gods are deaf to hot and peevish vows. They are polluted off'rings, more abhorred! Than spotted livers in the sacrifice.
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The loyalty, well held to fools, does make Our faith mere folly.
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The weakest goes to the wall.
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