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Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.
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
Mending
Hear
Happy
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My heart is turned to stone I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
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Forget, forgive conclude, and be agreed.
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These violent delights have violent ends.
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Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own!
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Blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
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Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall.
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You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
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Blest are those Whose blood and judgment are so well commingled, That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please.
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I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.
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Men of few words are the best men. (3.2.41)
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Britain is A world by itself, and we will nothing pay For wearing our own noses.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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My pride fell with my fortunes.
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My nature is subdued to what it works in, like the dyer's hand.
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What is more miserable than discontent?
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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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For the success, Although particular, shall give a scantling Of good or bad unto the general And in such indexes, although small pricks To their subsequent volumes, there is seen The baby figure of the giant mass Of things to come at large.
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Shakes so my single state of man That function is smothered in surmise, And nothing is but what is not.
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