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Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
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
Victory
Seem
Winning
Seems
Nothing
Sympathize
Losers
Foul
Loser
More quotes by William Shakespeare
If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it that surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die.
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To be in love, where scorn is bought with groans coy looks, with heart-sore sighs one fading moment's mirth
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
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Now, my masters, happy man be his dole, say I every man to his business.
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Till all grace be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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I was not born under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo to in festival terms.
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Liberty plucks justice by the nose The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum.
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My love's more richer than my tongue.
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I have thought some of Nature's journeymen had made men and not made them well, they imitated humanity so abominably.
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The expedition of my violent love outrun the pauser, reason.
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But men may construe things after their fashion, Clean from the purpose of the things themselves.
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You are made Rather to wonder at the things you hear Than to work any.
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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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Now the melancholy God protect thee, and the tailor make thy garments of changeable taffeta, for thy mind is opal.
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I charge thee, hence, and do not haunt me thus.
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The cheek Is apter than the tongue to tell an errand.
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My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!
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Here, thou incestuous, murderous, damned Dane, Drink off this potion!
William Shakespeare
All the world's a stage.
William Shakespeare