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Now, good digestion wait on appetite, and health on both!
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
Wait
Health
Waiting
Good
Digestion
Appetite
More quotes by William Shakespeare
What fates impose, that men must needs abide it boots not to resist both wind and tide.
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Speak me fair in death.
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What man dare, I dare. Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear, The armed rhinoceros, or th' Hyrcan tiger Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves Shall never tremble.
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary.
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I cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats If it be man's work, I'll do't.
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I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad and to travel for it too!
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Therefore it is most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm (his conscience) find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself.
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I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
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Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?
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Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long / To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
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What should we speak of When we are old as you? when we shall hear The rain and wind beat dark December? how, In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse The freezing hours away?
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If she be not honest, chaste, and true, there's no man happy.
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I love thee, I love thee with a love that shall not die. Till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
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Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
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Thus hath the candle sing'd the moth. O these deliberate fools!
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But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
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Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain
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