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Rashly, And praised be rashness for it--let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and that should learn us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will
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
Rough
Rashness
Shapes
Plots
Deep
Praised
Learn
Sometime
Ends
Serves
Wells
Divinity
Indiscretion
Well
Providence
Rashly
Plot
Pall
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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There's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.
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O shame, where is thy blush?
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Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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Where is your ancient courage? You were used to say extremities was the trier of spirits That common chances common men could bear That when the sea was calm all boats alike showed mastership in floating.
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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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Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
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Now old desire doth in his deathbed lie, And young affection gapes to be his heir That fair for which love groan'd for and would die, With tender Juliet match'd, is now not fair.
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Heaven is above all yet there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
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A noble shalt thou have, and present pay And liquor likewise will I give to thee, And friendship shall combine, and brotherhood.
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The small amount of foolery wise men have makes a great show.
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Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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she shall scant show well that now shows best.
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What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.
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Love reasons without reason.
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There's daggers in men's smiles.
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No matter where of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
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Two lovely berries moulded on one stem So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart.
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Though age from folly could not give me freedom, It does from childishness.
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