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Fear and niceness, the handmaids of all women, or more truly, woman its pretty self.
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
Handmaids
Niceness
Truly
Pretty
Woman
Fear
Women
Self
More quotes by William Shakespeare
He is not great who is not greatly good.
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Death is my son-in-law. Death is my heir. My daughter he hath wedded. I will die, And leave him all. Life, living, all is Death’s.
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I find my zenith doth depend upon A most auspicious star, whose influence If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes Will ever after droop.
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I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I know most faults.
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A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
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The soul of this man is his clothes.
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It is thyself, mine own self's better part Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim, My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
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The best quarrels, in the heat, are cursed by those that feel their sharpness.
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love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Myself will straight aboard, and to the state This heavy act with heavy heart relate.
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Man and wife, being two, are one in love.
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Gloucester, we have done deeds of charity, made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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Unless the old adage must be verified, That beggars mounted, run their horse to death.
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Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand,Blood and revenge are hammering in my head.
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In winter's tedious nights sit by the fire With good old folks, and let them tell thee tales Of woeful ages, long ago betid
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Will Fortune never come with both hands full, But write her fair words still in foulest terms?
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