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Tis safter to be that which we destroy Than by destruction dwell in doubtful joy.
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
Joy
Doubtful
Dwell
Destroy
Destruction
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Tis now the very witching time of night, when churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.
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O, had I but followed the arts!
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Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber.
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Two women placed together makes cold weather.
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You have too much respect upon the world They lose it that do buy it with much care
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Self-love is the most inhibited sin in the canon.
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Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools.
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I would give all of my fame for a pot of ale and safety.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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How poor are they that have not patience! What wound did ever heal but by degrees?
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
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Love is a spirit all compact of fire.
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Nothing can come of nothing.
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Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine, Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state, Makes me with thy strength to communicate.
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Benvolio- By my head, here come the Capulets. Mercutio- By my heel, I care not.
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Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
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If I lose my honor, I lose myself: better I were not yours Than yours so branchless.
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I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a robe, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such pain the cap of him that makes him fine Yet keeps his book uncrossed.
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