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Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.
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
Thinking
Weak
Deceit
Meaning
Gross
Open
Shallow
Teach
Creature
Earthy
Lying
Lays
Smother
Words
Errors
Folded
Speak
Dear
Feeble
Think
Creatures
Conceit
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Had I but died an hour before this chance, I had liv'd a blessed time for, from this instant, There's nothing serious in mortality: All is but toys renown, and grace is dead The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees Is left this vault to brag of.
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Too nice, and yet too true!
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For as a surfeit of the sweetest things The deepest loathing to the stomach brings, Or as tie heresies that men do leave Are hated most of those they did deceive, So thou, my surfeit and my heresy, Of all be hated, but the most of me!
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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Age, I do abhor thee, youth, I do adore thee.
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To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
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A table-full of welcome!
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What our contempts do often hurl from us, We wish it ours again.
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Why, all delights are vain, but that most vain Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit pain: As, painfully to pore upon a book, To seek the light of truth, which truth the while Doth falsely blind the eyesight of his look.
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Love asks me no questions, and gives me endless support.
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There are no tricks in plain and simple faith.
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Your gentleness shall force More than your force move us to gentleness.
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In limited professions there's boundless theft.
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But now I am cabined, cribbed, confined, bound in To saucy doubts and fears.
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the fire seven times tried this seven times tried that judgement is that did never choose amiss some there be that shadows kiss such have but a shadows bliss, there be fool alive, i wis silverd o'er, and so was this Take what wife you will to bed I will ever be your head. So be gone you are sped.
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Mend when thou canst be better at thy leisure.
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My grief lies onward, and my joy behind.
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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart, or in the head?
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Scratching could not make it worse, an't were such a face as yours were.
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