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Beware Of entrance to a quarrel.
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
Entrance
Entrances
Quarrel
Quarrels
Beware
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan For that deep wound it gives my friend and me Is't not enough to torture me alone, But slave to slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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To hold, as 't were, the mirror up to nature.
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No villainous bounty yet hath passed my heart Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given.
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These blessed candles of the night.
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Have more than thou showest, Speak less than thou knowest, Lend less than thou owest.
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Their understanding Begins to swell and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.
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So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
William Shakespeare
O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please, for so fools have.
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What's done is done. The joy is in the doing.
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Thou art most rich, being poor Most choice, forsaken and most lov'd, despis'd! Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon.
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Still constant is a wondrous excellence.
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This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas And utters it again when God doth please: He is wit's pedler and retails his wares.
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Nice customs curtsy to great kings.
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So holy and so perfect is my love, And I in such a poverty of grace, That I shall think it a most plenteous crop To glean the broken ears after the man That the main harvest reaps.
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Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.
William Shakespeare
When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye.
William Shakespeare
All gold and silver rather turn to dirt, An 'tis no better reckoned but of these Who worship dirty gods.
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I am the Prince of Wales and think not, Percy, To share with me in glory any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere.
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