1963 ordspråk av William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
Masters, spread yourselves.
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May his pernicious soul Rot half a grain a day!
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Me thinks he doth protest too much.
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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Men are April when they woo, December when they wed. Maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives.
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Men are as the time is.
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Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
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Men at sometime are the masters of their fate.
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Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love
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Men must endure, their going hence even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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Men of few words are the best men.
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Men should be what they seem; Or those that be not, would they might seem none!
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Men shut their doors against a setting sun.
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Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues we write in water
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