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[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
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
Brevity
Outward
Limbs
Brief
Wit
Soul
Polonius
Flourishes
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Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!
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These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
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Tears harden lust, though marble wear with raining.
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Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long / To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
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I have nothing Of woman in me now from head to foot I am marble-constant.
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The tyrant custom, most grave senators, Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war My thrice-driven bed of down.
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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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You'd be so lean, that blast of January Would blow you through and through. Now, my fair'st friend, I would I had some flowers o' the spring that might Become your time of day.
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What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
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Knit your hearts with an unslipping knot.
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He must needs go that the devil drives.
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A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by, and then his state Empties itself, as dot an inland brook Into the main of waters.
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Dreams are the children of idled minds.
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Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun.
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To be slow in words is a woman's only virtue.
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Nay, we must think men are not gods, Nor of them look for such observancy As fits the bridal.
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I go, I go, look how I go, swifter than an arrow from a bow
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Being of no power to make his wishes good: His promises fly so beyond his state That what he speaks is all in debt he owes For every word.
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