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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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
Inspirational
Men
Sometime
Fate
Masters
More quotes by William Shakespeare
A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age.
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Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.— Joy, gentle friends! joy and fresh days of love Accompany your hearts!
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This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.
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When my love swears that she is made of truth, I do believe her, though I know she lies.
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If thou couldst, doctor, cast The water of my land, find her disease, And purge it to a sound and pristine health, I would applaud thee to the very echo, That should applaud you again.
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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
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Do not give dalliance too much rein the strongest oaths are straw to the fire in the blood.
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By my troth, I care not a man can die but once we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next
William Shakespeare
You blocks, you stones, you worse than senseless things!
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For by his face straight shall you know his heart.
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Though patience be a tired mare, yet she will plod.
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For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
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I do love My country's good with a respect more tender, More holy and profound, then mine own life, My dear wife's estimate, her womb increase, And treasure of my loins.
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And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.
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Death is a fearful thing.
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How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
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Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
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So many hours must I take my rest So many hours must I contemplate.
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Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate
William Shakespeare