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They were devils incarnate.
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
Sassy
Devils
Devil
Incarnate
More quotes by William Shakespeare
How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.
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Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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What win I, if I gain the thing I seek? A dream, a breath, a froth of fleeting joy. Who buys a minute's mirth to wail a week? Or sells eternity to get a toy? For one sweet grape who will the vine destroy? Or what fond beggar, but to touch the crown, Would with the sceptre straight be strucken down?
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Were't not for laughing, I should pity him.
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In love the heavens themselves do guide the state Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate.
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I go, I go, look how I go, swifter than an arrow from a bow
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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
William Shakespeare
Give me a bowl of wine. I have not that alacrity of spirit Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have.
William Shakespeare
Patch grief with proverbs.
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Soft pity enters an iron gate.
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To climb steep hills requires a slow pace at first.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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Every offense is not a hate at first.
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No particular scandal one can touch but it confounds the breather.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
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Why, look you, I am whipp'd and scourg'd with rods, Nettled and stung with pismires[nettles], when I hear Of this vile politician, Bolingbroke.
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A table-full of welcome!
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
William Shakespeare
You peasant swain! You whoreson malt-horse drudge!
William Shakespeare