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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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
Grew
Cherries
Two
Berries
Together
Seeming
Molded
Like
Stem
Midsummer
Double
Partition
Union
Parted
Unions
Cherry
Lovely
Sisterhood
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But fish not with this melancholy bait For this fool gudgeon, this opinion.
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And why not death rather than living torment? To die is to be banish'd from myself And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her Is self from self: a deadly banishment!
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All pride is willing pride.
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Lovers and madmen have such seething brains Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend More than cool reason ever comprehends.
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Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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Would the cook were o' my mind!
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And thence from Athens turn away our eyes To seek new friends and stranger companies.
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He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
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Be merry you have cause, so have we all, of joy for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.
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Behold the threaden sails, Borne with the invisible and creeping wind, Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd sea, Breasting the lofty surge
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And either victory, or else a grave.
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With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.
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Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
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A table-full of welcome!
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Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure, And to that woman, when she has done most, Yet will I add an honour-a great patience.
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Captain of our fairy band, Helena is here at hand, And the youth, mistook by me, Pleading for a lover's fee. Shall we their fond pageant see? Lord, what fools these mortals be!
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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
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