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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
Men
Desert
According
Dignity
Deserve
Scape
Honor
Scapes
Less
Whipping
Use
Bounty
Every
Merit
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If there is a good will, there is great way.
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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.
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Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits.
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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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Who is so firm that can't be seduced?
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Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile
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How quickly nature falls into revolt When gold becomes her object! For this the foolish over-careful fathers Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care, Their bones with industry.
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I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
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Love thrives not in the heart that shadows dreadeth
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I must be cruel only to be kind Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
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Barnes are blessings.
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Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
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He that is robbed, not wanting what is stolen, him not know t, and he's not robbed at all.
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All hoods make not monks.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
William Shakespeare
Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns.
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it.
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