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Use every man according to his desert and who should 'scape whipping? Use them after your own honor and dignity, the less they deserve ... the more merit in your bounty.
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
Honor
Scapes
Less
Whipping
Use
Bounty
Every
Merit
Men
Desert
According
Dignity
Deserve
Scape
More quotes by William Shakespeare
It is the cowish terror of his spirit that dares not undertake he'll not feel wrongs which tie him to an answer.
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So will I turn her virtue into pitch, And out of her own goodness make the net That shall enmesh them all.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men?
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The purest treasure mortal times can afford is a spotless reputation.
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Faults that are rich are fair.
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Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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I have lived long enough. My way of life is to fall into the sere, the yellow leaf, and that which should accompany old age, as honor, love, obedience, troops of friends I must not look to have.
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Before thee stands this fair Hesperides, With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touched For death-like dragons here affright thee hard.
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The plants look up to heaven, from whence they have their nourishment.
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You are strangely troublesome.
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O! she doth teach the torches to burn bright It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear. - Romeo -
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Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
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Here is a rural fellow that will not be denied your Highness' presence: he brings you figs.
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Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English.
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Nothing 'gainst Times scythe can make defence.
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Love is a wonderful, terrible thing
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This above all to thine own self be true.
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What's done cannot be undone. To bed, to bed, to bed.
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They love least that let men know their loves.
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