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Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath hath had no power yet upon thy beauty.
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
Upon
Death
Suck
Power
Juliet
Hath
Honey
Breath
Breaths
Beauty
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Is he on his horse? O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony!
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Love's mind of judgment rarely hath a taste: Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste.
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Thou hast her, France let her be thine, for we Have no such daughter, nor shall ever see That face of hers again. Therefore be gone Without our grace, our love, our benison.
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Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
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The fool multitude, that choose by show, not learning more than the fond eye doth teach.
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Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
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I will not choose what many men desire, Because I will not jump with common spirits And rank me with the barbarous multitudes.
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O, how full of briers is this working-day world!
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It is a sin to be a mocker.
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In the modesty of fearful duty, I read as much as from the rattling tongue of saucy and audacious eloquence.
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However wickedness outstrips men, it has no wings to fly from God.
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Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.
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When Death doth close his tender dying eyes.
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What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
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Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the doing.
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Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come make her laugh at that.
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
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Through tattered clothes great vices do appear Robes and furred gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold and the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks. Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Last scene of all that ends this strange, eventful history, is second childishness and mere oblivion. I am sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
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