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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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
Well
Polonius
Hamlet
Excellent
Lord
Wells
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The poorest service is repaid with thanks.
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A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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I hold my peace, sir? no No, I will speak as liberal as the north Let heaven and men and devils, let them all, All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak.
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Such an act That blurs the grace and blush of modesty Calls virtue hypocrite takes off the rose From the fair forehead of an innocent love, And sets a blister there makes marriage vows As false as dicers' oaths.
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Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
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More fools know Jack Fool than Jack Fool knows.
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Men prize the thing ungained more than it is.
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Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
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O hell! to choose love with another's eye.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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It easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.
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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.
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I was a coward on instinct.
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In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
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The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, Advantaging their loan with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness.
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Keep up your bright swords, for the dew will rust them.
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Through tattered clothes great vices do appear Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
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Beauty within itself should not be wasted.
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