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Fair ladies, masked, are roses in their bud Dismasked, the damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
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
Rose
Blown
Angel
Roses
Sweet
Ladies
Women
Shown
Angels
Fairs
Clouds
Masked
Fair
Bud
More quotes by William Shakespeare
They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
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There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
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My age is as a lusty winter, frosty but kindly.
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Like a red morn that ever yet betokened, Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field, Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds, Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.
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For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
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Shall we upon the footing of our land Send fair-play orders, and make compromise, Insinuation, parley, and base truce, To arms invasive?
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Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.
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How long a time lies in one little word?
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In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
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Desperate times breed desperate measures
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All his successors gone before him have done 't and all his ancestors that come after him may.
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I never see thy face but I think upon hell-fire.
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
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what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
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To show an unfelt sorrow is an office Which the false man does easy.
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
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Preposterous ass, that never read so far to know the cause why music was ordain'd! Was it not to refresh the mind of man, after his studies or his usual pain?
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No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here.
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Their manners are more gentle, kind, than of Our human generation you shall find.
William Shakespeare
Ingratitude is monstrous and for the multitude to be ingrateful were to make a monster of the multitude of which we being members, should bring ourselves to be monstrous members.
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