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O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven
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
Offence
Smells
Rank
Smell
Dignity
Heaven
More quotes by William Shakespeare
But it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, which, by often rumination, wraps me in the most humorous sadness.
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Virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
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Where the bee sucks, there suck I In the cow-slip's bell i lie There I couch when owls do cry
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Determine on some course more than a wild exposure to each chance.
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Kiss me, Kate, we shall be married o'Sunday
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O Ceremony, show me but thy worth? What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men?
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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?
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Sometimes, less is more.
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Malvolio: Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Feste: But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.
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But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
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Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men Therefore thou sleep'st so sound.
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To go to bed after midnight is to go to bed betimes
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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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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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And Caesar shall go forth.
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What freezings I have felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere!
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But no perfection is so absolute, That some impurity doth not pollute.
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What many men desire--that 'many' may be meant By the fool multitude that choose by show, Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach, Which pries not to th' interior, but like the martlet Builds in the weather on the outward wall, Even in the force and road of casualty.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking.
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