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I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary self, Pursued my humor not pursuing his, And gladly shunned who gladly fled from me.
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
Sought
Weary
Shunned
Affection
Fled
Humor
Gladly
Found
Affections
Might
Measuring
Self
Pursuing
Many
Pursued
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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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Downy sleep, death's counterfeit.
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Now, by the world, it is a lusty wench I love her ten times more than e'er I did: O, how I long to have some chat with her!
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Why didst thou promise such a beauteous day And make me travel forth without my cloak, To let base clouds o'ertake me in my way, Hiding they brav'ry in their rotten smoke?
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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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Thou speak'st like him's untutored to repeat: Who makes the fairest show means most deceit.
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Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.
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For conspiracy, I know not how it tastes, though it be dished For me to try how.
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.
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We will all laugh at gilded butterflies.
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Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee? BEATRICE Yea, signior, and depart when you bid me. BENEDICK O, stay but till then! BEATRICE 'Then' is spoken fare you well now... (Much Ado About Nothing)
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A wicked conscience mouldeth goblins swift as frenzy thoughts.
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Lord Bacon told Sir Edward Coke when he was boasting, The less you speak of your greatness, the more shall I think of it.
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Women speak two languages - one of which is verbal.
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And ruin`d love when it is built anew, grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater
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All love's pleasure shall not match its woe.
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We must every one be a man of his own fancy.
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You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
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We cannot all be masters, nor all masters Cannot be truly followed.
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