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Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth But that our soft conditions and our hearts Should well agree with our external parts?
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
Weak
Taming
Conditions
Smooth
Body
External
Wells
Soft
Well
Bodies
Heart
Parts
Hearts
Agree
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So, you are very welcome to our house. It must appear in other ways than words, Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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Your wisdom is consum'd in confidence. Do not go forth to-day.
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That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.
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These words are razors to my wounded heart.
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I cannot do it without comp[u]ters.
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By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
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By my troth, I care not a man can die but once we owe God a death and let it go which way it will he that dies this year is quit for the next
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Go, write it in a martial hand be curst and brief it is no matter how witty, so it be eloquent and fun of invention: taunt him with the licence of ink: if thou thou'st him some thrice, it shall not be amiss and as many lies as will lie in thy shee.
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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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Thou art the Mars of malcontents.
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For some must watch, while some must sleep So runs the world away
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Two lovely berries moulded on one stem So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart.
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That you were once unkind befriends me now, And for that sorrow, which I then did feel, Needs must I under my transgression bow, Unless my nerves were brass or hammered steel.
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I bear a charmed life, which must not yield To one of woman born.
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Such thanks as fits a king's remembrance.
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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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