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Despair and die. The ghosts
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
Ghosts
Ghost
Despair
Dies
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And I will make it felony to drink small beer.
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From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
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But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
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More can I bear than you dare execute.
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Now stand you on the top of happy hours, And many maiden gardens yet unset, With virtuous wish would bear you living flowers, Much liker than your painted counterfeit: So should the lines of life that life repair Which this, Time's pencil, or my pupil pen Neither in inward worth nor outward fair Can make you live your self in eyes of men.
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My hands are of your color, but I shame to wear a heart so white.
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Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor, dream as I have done Wake, and find nothing.
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Fill all thy bones with aches.
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We are such stuff as dreams are made on and our little life is rounded with a sleep.
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The mind of guilt is full of scorpions.
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Thanks to men Of noble minds, is honorable meed.
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Twas a clever quibble. Here, a garment for it.
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Give every man thy ear, but few thy voice.
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I love a ballad but even too well if it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a very pleasant thing indeed and sung lamentably.
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Fools are not mad folks.
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Quote: What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
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Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.
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Though now this grained face of mine be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow, And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left, My dull deaf ears a little use to hear.
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Full many a lady I have eyed with best regard, and many a time Th' harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear for several virtues Have I liked several women never any With so full soul but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil.
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To lapse in fulness Is sorer than to lie for need, and falsehood Is worse in kings than beggars.
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