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Thus may poor fools Belive false teachers.
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
Fools
Teachers
False
Thus
Fool
Teacher
Poor
May
Belive
More quotes by William Shakespeare
I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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Every good servant does not all commands.
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Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
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What, gone without a word? Ay, so true love should do it cannot speak, For truth hath better deeds than words to grace it.
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Sir, the year growing ancient, Not yet on summer's death nor on the birth Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' th' season Are our carnations and streaked gillyvors, Which some call nature's bastards.
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The spirit of a youth That means to be of note, begins betimes.
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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Come away, come away, death, And in sad cypres let me be laid Fly away, fly away, breath I am slain by a fair cruel maid.
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Preferment goes by letter and affection, And not by old gradation, where each second Stood heir to th's first.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
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The deep of night is crept upon our talk, And Nature must obey necessity.
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A great cause of the night is lack of the sun.
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Let the sap of reason quench the fire of passion.
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There is none but he Whose being I do fear and under him My genius is rebuked, as it is said Mark Antony's was by Caesar.
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You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead carcasses of unburied men That do corrupt my air, I banish you And here remain with your uncertainty!
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A good man's fortune may grow out at heels.
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By heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be mekancholy.
William Shakespeare
I hourly learn a doctrine of obedience.
William Shakespeare