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We, ignorant of ourselves, Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers Deny us for our good so find we profit By losing of our prayers.
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
Prayer
Prayers
Often
Powers
Find
Ignorant
Good
Profit
Harm
Deny
Losing
Wise
Harms
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Wishers were ever fools.
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I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously for when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests but now I'll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me.
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Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy: This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in.
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That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.
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Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, a face without a heart?
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I like not fair terms and a villain's mind.
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Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.
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For my part, I may speak it to my shame, I have a truant been to chivalry And so I hear he doth account me too.
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I have bought golden opinions from all sorts of people.
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Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.
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As true as steel, as plantage to the moon, As sun to day, at turtle to her mate, As iron to adamant, as earth to centre.
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I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, then mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb increase, And treasure of my loins.
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Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Be absent hence!
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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
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God has given you one face, and you make yourself another.
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These cardinals trifle with me I abhor This dilatory sloth and tricks of Rome.
William Shakespeare
Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.
William Shakespeare
O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love... 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy What's in a name? that which we call a rose By any other name would smell as sweet.
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
William Shakespeare
If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
William Shakespeare