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Many a true word hath been spoken in jest.
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
Jest
Spoken
Hath
Word
True
Many
More quotes by William Shakespeare
The amity that wisdom knits not, folly may easily untie.
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Hear the meaning within the word.
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Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
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I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
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Good friend for Jesus sake forbeare, To digg the dust encloased heare! Blest be the man that spares thes stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
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The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
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Fie, fie upon her! There's language in her eye, her cheek, her lip, Nay, her foot speaks her wanton spirits look out At every joint and motive of her body.
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After life's fitful fever he sleeps well. Treason has done his worst. Nor steel nor poison, malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing can touch him further.
William Shakespeare
Your tale, sir, would cure deafness.
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And sleep, that sometime shuts up sorrow's eye, Steal me awhile from mine own company.
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Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell.
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Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man, after his studies or his usual pain?
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I have not slept one wink.
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A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' th' forest, A motley fool! a miserable world! As I do live by food, I met a fool Who laid him down and basked him in the sun And railed on Lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, and yet a motley fool.
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Show me a mistress that is passing fair, what doth her beauty serve but as a note where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?
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They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
William Shakespeare
She dreams of him that has forgot her love You dote on her that cares not for your love. 'Tis pity love should be so contrary And thinking of it makes me cry 'alas!
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Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
William Shakespeare