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Women being the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the walls.
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
Walls
Wall
Women
Ever
Vessels
Weaker
Thrust
Vessel
More quotes by William Shakespeare
Our wills and fates do so contrary run.
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Old fashions please me best I am not so nice To change true rules for odd inventions.
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Perseverance, my dear Lord. Keeps honour bright.
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All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus There is no virtue like necessity.
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Pain pays the income of each precious thing.
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Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men As hounds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, curs, Shoughs, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are 'clept All by the name of dogs: the valued file Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, The housekeeper, the hunter, every one According to the gift which bounteous nature Hath in him closed.
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One good deed dying tongueless Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. Our praises are our wages.
William Shakespeare
Vile worm, thou wast o'erlook'd even in thy birth.
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These are the forgeries of jealousy And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
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Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
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This day's black fate on more days doth depend This but begins the woe, others must end.
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Having my freedom, boast of nothing else.
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He is the half part of a blessed man, Left to be finished by such as she And she a fair divided excellence, Whose fullness of perfection lies in him.
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I care not, a man can die but once we owe God and death.
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But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot? Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
William Shakespeare
Speak of me as I am. Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.
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O, that our fathers would applause our loves, To seal our happiness with hteir consents!
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Tongues I'll hang on every tree That shall civil sayings show. . . .
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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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The band that seems to tie their friendship together will be the very strangler of their amity.
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