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One woman is fair, yet I am well another is wise, yet I am well another virtuous, yet I am well but till all graces be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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
Well
Fair
Grace
Wise
Shall
Woman
Graces
Another
Virtuous
Wells
Till
Come
Fairs
More quotes by William Shakespeare
By innocence I swear, and by my youth, I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor never none Shall mistress be of it save I alone.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
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He that commends me to mine own content Commends me to the thing I cannot get.
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And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.
William Shakespeare
I can no longer live by thinking.
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My only love sprung from my only hate.
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O, I have suffered With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel (Who had no doubt some noble creature in her) Dashed all to pieces! O, the cry did knock Against my very heart! Poor souls, they perished!
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You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
William Shakespeare
Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.
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We do pray for mercy, and that same prayer doth teach us all to render the deeds of mercy.
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Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.
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If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
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Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means!
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Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty.
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Silence is the perfectest herault of joy. I were but little happy if I could say how much.
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Speak me fair in death.
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Time ... thou ceaseless lackey to eternity.
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The blood of youth burns not with such excess as gravity's revolt to wantonness.
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Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.
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Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
William Shakespeare