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Robust grass endures mighty winds loyal ministers emerge through ordeal.
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
Emerge
Wind
Winds
Mighty
Loyal
Ministers
Ordeal
Grass
Ordeals
Endures
Endure
Robust
Strength
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If they love they know not why, they hate upon no better ground, they hate upon no better a ground
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It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, And vice sometime by action dignified.
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Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low.
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so full of shapes is fancy
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Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
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Why, headstrong liberty is lashed with woe. There's nothing situate under heaven's eye But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky.
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The curse of marriage That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites!
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Past all shame, so past all truth.
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Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
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Virtue is beauty, but the beauteous evil. Are empty trunks o'erflourished by the devil.
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Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd but bred a dog.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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In such business Action is eloquence, and the eyes of th’ ignorant More learned than the ears.
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Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded.
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Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an ordinary man has but I am a great eater of beef, and I believe that does harm to my wit.
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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Speak comfortable words.
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