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By heaven, I'll make a ghost of him that lets me.
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
Lets
Ghost
Heaven
Make
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
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I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say - I love you
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Is this government of Britain's Isle, and this the royalty of Albion's King?
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This feather stirs she lives! if it be so, it is a chance which does redeem all sorrows that ever I have felt.
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I was born free as Caesar so were you
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He hath eaten me out of house and home.
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Blind is his love, and best befits the dark.
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Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream
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He that hath a beard is more than a youth, and he that hath no beard is less than a man. He that is more than a youth is not for me, and he that is less than a man, I am not for him.
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Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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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.
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For in that sleep of death what dreams may come.
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These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care.
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Tax not so bad a voice to slander music any more than once.
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Free from gross passion or of mirth or anger
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