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If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.
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
False
Anyone
True
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger.
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He that is giddy thinks the world turns round.
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Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator.
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If you be King, why should not I succeed?
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Away, you mouldy rogue, away!
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For to define true madness, What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
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Love's heralds should be thoughts, Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams Driving back shadows over low'ring hills. Therefore do nimble-pinioned doves draw Love, And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.
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Forever, and forever, farewell, Cassius! If we do meet again, why, we shall smile If not, why then this parting was well made.
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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
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O excellent! I love long life better than figs.
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Memory, the warder of the brain.
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There is a time in the affairs of men, Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune.
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Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
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Thriftless ambition, that wilt ravin up Thine own life's means!
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Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth.
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Things done well and with a care, exempt themselves from fear.
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What, shall one of us, That struck for the foremost man of all this world But for supporting robbers--shall we now Contaminate our fingers with base bribes, And sell the mighty space of our large honors For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
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That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
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Knavery's plain face is never seen till used.
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