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He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.
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
Staple
Staples
Finer
Thread
Argument
Fun
Verbosity
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Rich honesty dwells like a miser, Sir, in a poor house as your pearl in your foul oyster.
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For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth, Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, To stir men's blood: I only speak right on I tell you that which you yourselves do know.
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Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
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What, with my tongue in your tail? nay, come again, Good Kate I am a gentleman.
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False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
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Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
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And do so, love, yet when they have devised What strainèd touches rhetoric can lend, Thou, truly fair, wert truly sympathized In true plain words by thy true-telling friend And their gross painting might be better used Where cheeks need blood in thee it is abused.
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Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
William Shakespeare
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, devised at first to keep the strong in awe
William Shakespeare
Speak comfortable words.
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Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.
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Plenty and peace breed cowards hardness ever of hardiness is mother.
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Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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Death where is thy sting? Love, where is thy glory?
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I'll note you in my book of memory.
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A politician... one that would circumvent God.
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A pox o’ your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!
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Man, proud man, drest in a little brief authority, most ignorant of what he's most assur d, glassy essence, like an angry ape, plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, as make the angels weep.
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My dear, dear Lord, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation that away Men are but gilded loan or painted clay... Mine honor is my life both grow in one Take honor from me, and my life is done.
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Good with out evil is like light with out darkness which in turn is like righteousness whith out hope.
William Shakespeare