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What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no.
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
Air
Died
Falstaff
Honor
Trim
Hear
Reckoning
Word
Wednesday
Feel
Doth
Feels
Hath
Honour
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Should all despair That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind Would hang themselves.
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Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou wilt.
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Swear me, Kate, like a lady as thou art, A good mouth-filling oath.
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Our content Is our best having.
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Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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ROSS You must have patience, madam. LADY MACDUFF He had none: His flight was madness: when our actions do not, Our fears do make us traitors.
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I shall the effect of this good lesson keeps as watchman to my heart.
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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The color of the king doth come and go, Between his purpose and his conscience, Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful battles set: His passion is so ripe, it needs must break.
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Faith, there hath been many great men that have flattered the people who ne'er loved them.
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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention, A kingdom for a stage, princes to act And monarchs to behold the swelling scene!
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Tis ever common That men are merriest when they are from home.
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Demand me nothing: what you know, you know.
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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Friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
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Thou weigh'st thy words before thou givest them breath.
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Comets importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars.
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Nature, as it grows again toward earth, is fashioned for the journey, dull and heavy.
William Shakespeare
In thy face I see the map of honour, truth and loyalty.
William Shakespeare
A woman that is like a German clock, Still a-repairing, ever out of frame, And never going aright, being a watch, But being watched that it may still go right!
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