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Time shall unfold what plaited cunning hides: Who cover faults, at last shame them derides.
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
Shall
Cordelia
Lasts
Lear
Last
Unfold
Time
Hides
Cunning
Cover
Faults
Shame
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
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O Helena, goddess, nymph, perfect, divine! To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow!
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This fell sergeant, Death, Is strict in his arrest.
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Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
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All his successors gone before him have done 't and all his ancestors that come after him may.
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Fill all thy bones with aches.
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Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?
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Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind And makes it fearful and degenerate.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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We must follow, not force Providence.
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There is a river in Macedon, and there is moreover a river in Monmouth. It is called Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both.
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It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.
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Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.
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Though music oft hath such a charm to make bad good, and good provoke to harm.
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A plague on both your houses.
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May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Environ you till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves.
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Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian.
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Light seeking light doth light of light beguile: So, ere you find where light in darkness lies, Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
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The more pity, that fools may not speak wisely what wise men do foolishly.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?
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