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Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome therefore I will depart unkissed.
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
Depart
Foul
Breath
Breaths
Therefore
Wind
Words
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Truly, I would not hang a dog by my will, much more a man who hath any honesty in him.
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Adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave.
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England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune.
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O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
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RUMOUR: Upon my tongues continual slanders ride, The which in every language I pronounce, Stuffing the ears of men with false reports.
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The summer's flower is to the summer sweet Though to itself it only live and die
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Write till your ink be dry, and with your tears Moist it again, and frame some feeling line That may discover such integrity.
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As many arrows, loosed several ways, come to one mark...so many a thousand actions, once afoot, end in one purpose.
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An honest man, sir, is able to speak for himself, when a knave is not.
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Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th's first.
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How much better is it to weep at joy than to joy at weeping?
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The world must be peopled!
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Heaven give you many, many merry days.
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Wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.
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In nature's infinite book of secrecy A little I can read.
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Men's faults do seldom to themselves appear.
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How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony
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A peevish self-willed harlotry it is. *She’s a stubborn little brat.*
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Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
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Do you set down your name in the scroll of youth, that are written down old with all the characters of age?
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