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I am indeed not her fool, but her corrupter of words. (Act III, sc. I, 37-38)
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
Corrupter
Indeed
Fool
Words
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Hung be the heavens with black! Yield, day, to night!
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What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
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A kind Of excellent dumb discourse.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but, being in, bear t that th' opposed may beware of thee.
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Villains, vipers, damn'd without redemption Dogs, easily won to fawn on any man Snakes in my heart-blood warm'd, that sing my heart Three Judases, each one thrice worse than Judas.
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True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
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What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
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Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments: love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds.
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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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O excellent! I love long life better than figs.
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I would we were all of one mind, and one mind good.
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There's little of the melancholy element in her, my lord: she is never sad but when she sleeps and not ever sad then for I have heard my daughter say, she hath often dreamt of unhappiness, and waked herself with laughing.
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I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love.
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All offences come from the heart.
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I am now of all humors that have showed themselves humors since the old days of goodman Adam to the pupil age of this present twelve o'clock at midnight.
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