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Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
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
Doe
Give
Giving
Childishness
Folly
Stupidity
Though
Age
Freedom
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Life every man holds dear but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
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Unquiet meals make ill digestions.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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Women are as roses, whose fair flower, being once displayed, doth fall that very hour.
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags.
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Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man Still to remember wrongs?
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We are not ourselves When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind To suffer with the body.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
William Shakespeare
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
William Shakespeare
Mine honor is my life, both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done. Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try In that I live, and for that I will die.
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And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence
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Every why hath a wherefore.
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This sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this horseback-breaker, this huge hill of flesh!
William Shakespeare
As I hope For quiet days, fair issue, and long life, With such love as 'tis now, the murkiest den, The most opportune place, the strong'st suggestion Our worser genius can, shall never melt Mine honour into lust, to take away The edge of that day's celebration, When I shall think or Phoebus' steeds are founder'd Or Night kept chain'd below.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
William Shakespeare
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
William Shakespeare
But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
William Shakespeare
The seeming truth which cunning times put on to entrap the wisest.
William Shakespeare