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Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
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
Night
Light
Rise
Lying
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I drink to the general joy o’ the whole table. Macbeth
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We suffer a lot the few things we lack and we enjoy too little the many things we have.
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I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh be hacked.
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Lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.
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Who is here so vile that will not love his country?
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O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
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I feel within me a peace above all earthly dignities, a still and quiet conscience.
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A friend should bear his friend's infirmities.
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The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies.
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My rage is gone, And I am struck with sorrow. Take him up. Help, three o' th' chiefest soldiers I'll be one. Beat thou the drum, that it speaks mournfully, Trail your steel spikes. Though in this city he Hath widowed and unchilded many a one, Which to this hour bewail the injury, Yet he shall have a noble memory. Assist.
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Set honour in one eye and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently.
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I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
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'Sblood, you starveling, you elf-skin, you dried neat's tongue, you bull's pizzle, you stock-fish! O for breath to utter what is like thee! you tailor's-yard, you sheath, you bowcase you vile standing-tuck!
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Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
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For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood.
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They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
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That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain, And follows but for form, Will pack, when it begins to rain, And leave thee in a storm.
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Small to greater matters must give way.
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As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
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For grief is crowned with consolation.
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