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Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, but gold that's put to use more gold begets.
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
Treasure
Gold
Use
Money
Frets
Rust
Begets
Foul
Hidden
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He that dies pays all debts.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
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What is a man, if his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep and feed? a beast, no more. Sure he that made us with such large discourse, looking before and after, gave us not that capability and god-like reason to fust in us unused.
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Life is as tedious as twice-told tale, vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man.
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Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning One pain is less'ned by another's anguish Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning One desperate grief cures with another's languish.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.
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I long To hear the story of your life, which must Take the ear strangely.
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I have pursued her, as love hath pursued me
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All of Creation’s a farce. Man was born as a joke. In his head his reason is buffeted Like wind-blown smoke. Life is a game. Everyone ridicules everyone else. But he who has the last laugh Laughs longest.
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Like one who draws the model of a house beyond his power to build it who, half through, gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost a naked subject to the weeping clouds.
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Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
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In nature there's no blemish but the mind. None can be called deformed but the unkind.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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But like of each thing that in season grows.
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To gild refined gold, to paint the lily... is wasteful and ridiculous excess
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The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch, and Sweetheart-see, they bark at me.
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Lawn as white as driven snow Cyprus black as e'er was crow Gloves as sweet as damask roses.
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This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents.
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Give obedience where 'tis truly owed.
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