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If't be summer news, Smile to't before if winterly, thou need'st But keep that count'nance still.
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
Needs
Thou
Smile
Summer
News
Keep
Stills
Still
Need
Count
More quotes by William Shakespeare
You are not worth the dust which the rude wind Blows in your face.
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No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
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In thy foul throat thou liest.
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All that glitters is not gold.
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Who riseth from a feast With that keen appetite that he sits down?
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For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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Let me say amen betimes lest the devil cross my prayer, for here he comes in the likeness of a Jew.
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The strawberry grows underneath the nettle And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality.
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A man may fish with the worm that hath eat of a king, and eat of the fish that hath fed of that worm
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Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger
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Pardon's the word to all.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
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Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
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He's truly valiant that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe, and make his wrongs His outsides, to wear them like his raiment, carelessly, And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, To bring it into danger.
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So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend, or be rid on't.
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Nay, do not think I flatter. For what advancement may I hope from thee, That no revenue hast but thy good spirits To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come.
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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Oh why rebuke you him that loves you so? / Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe.
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