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Awake, dear heart, awake. Thou hast slept well. Awake.
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
Well
Heart
Tempest
Hast
Slept
Awake
Thou
Dear
Wells
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
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And nothing is, but what is not.
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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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I may neither choose who I would, nor refuse who I dislike so is the will of a living daughter curbed by the will of a dead father.
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Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash ’tis something, nothing ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
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Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.
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Hamlet: Is this a prologue, or the posy of a ring? Ophelia: 'Tis brief, my lord. Hamlet: As woman's love.
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The ostentation of our love, which, left unshown, is often left unloved.
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do, He's more secure to keep it shut than shown For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind, Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear To stop the air would hurt them.
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Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.
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For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy
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If [God] send me no husband, for the which blessing I am at him upon my knees every morning and evening.
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My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist me!
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Ready to go but never to return.
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This is the short and the long of it.
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I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure let us be jocund
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I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their faces, beat the ground for kissing of their feet.
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All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.
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