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Suffer love a good epithet! I do suffer love, indeed, for I love thee against my will.
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
Suffering
Good
Love
Benedick
Epithet
Suffer
Thee
Indeed
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Hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
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Misery makes sport to mock itself.
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For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i' the receiving earth.
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Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog.
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Sir, in my heart there was a kind of fighting That would not let me sleep.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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Sorrow, like a heavy ringing bell, once set on ringing, with its own weight goes then little strength rings out the doleful knell.
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
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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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A grandma's name is little less in love than is the doting title of a mother.
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Rashly, And praised be rashness for it--let us know, Our indiscretion sometime serves us well When our deep plots do pall, and that should learn us There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will
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This is a gift that I have, simple, simple a foolish extravagant spirit full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion.
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I have trod a measure, I have flattered a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy.
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Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea, But bad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea, Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
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The Brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight doth a lamp her eyes in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing, and think it were not night.
William Shakespeare
Nor stony tower, nor walls of beaten brass, Nor airless dungeon, nor strong links of iron, Can be retentive to the strength of spirit But life, being weary of these worldly bars, Never lacks power to dismiss itself.
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For to be wise and love exceeds man's might.
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
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O shame, where is thy blush?
William Shakespeare