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Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.
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
Able
Silence
Thine
Never
Trust
Check
Love
Enemy
Checks
Life
Wrong
Keys
Rather
None
Use
Taxes
Keep
Speech
Power
Friend
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Heaven would that she these gifts should have, and I to live and die her slave.
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Rightly to be great Is not to stir without great argument, But greatly to find quarrel in a straw When honour's at the stake.
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Best men oft are moulded out of faults.
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It is great To do that thing that ends all other deeds, Which shackles accidents and bolts up change.
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O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgined it e'er since.
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Be still prepared for death: and death or life shall thereby be the sweeter.
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O gentle son, Upon the heat and flame of thy distemper, sprinkle cool patience.
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I see that the fashion wears out more apparel than the man.
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
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I am in blood Stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er.
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The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.
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Come, go with us, speak fair you may salve so, Not what is dangerous present, but the los Of what is past.
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Twas never merry world Since lowly feigning was called compliment.
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Love's not love When it is mingled with regards that stand Aloof from th' entire point.
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Having nothing, nothing can he lose.
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Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.
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I pray you bear me henceforth from the noise and rumour of the field, where I may think the remnant of my thoughts in peace, and part of this body and my soul with contemplation and devout desires.
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Conscience is a thousand swords.
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O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
William Shakespeare
With this special observance, that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature. for anything so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the mirror up to nature.
William Shakespeare