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Here comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With his mouth full of news. Celia: Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind: Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia: All the better we shall be the more marketable.
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
News
Celia
Shall
Beau
Full
Marketable
Comes
Crammed
Young
Pigeons
Better
Feed
Mouth
Mouths
Rosalind
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If you can look into the seeds of time, and say which grain will grow and which will not, speak then unto me.
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When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.
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I hope to see London once ere I die.
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A Devil, a born Devil on whose nature, nurture can never stick, on whom my pain, humanly taken, all lost, quite lost.
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Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.
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The eye sees all, but the mind shows us what we want to see.
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We know what we are, but know not what we may be.
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It is the disease of not listening...... that I am troubled with.
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I am misanthropos, and hate mankind, For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something.
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The old folk, time's doting chronicles.
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Men at some time are masters of their fates. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings.
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By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
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Let those that play your clowns speak no more than is set down for them.
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ROMEO to BALTHASAR But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry In what I further shall intend to do, By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs: The time and my intents are savage-wild, More fierce and more inexorable far Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.
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Most dear actors, eat no onions nor garlic, for we are to utter sweet breath.
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So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute.
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These times of woe afford no time to woo.
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Love is too young to know what conscience is.
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