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To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown But where there is true friendship, there needs none.
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
True
Ceremony
Real
Hollow
Needs
Shown
Deeds
Goodness
Sorry
Welcomes
None
Gloss
Friendship
Faint
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Nor shall this peace sleep with her but as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phoenix, Her ashes new-create another heir As great in admiration as herself.
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The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.
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What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, So stumblest on my counsel? *Who are you? Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?*
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Seek happy nights to happy days.W
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You have too much respect upon the world They lose it that do buy it with much care
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Yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
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Be like you thought our love would last too long, if it were chain'd together
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where civil blood makes civil hands unclean
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When a man's verses cannot be understood, nor a man's good wit seconded with the forward child understanding, it strikes a man more dead than a great reckoning in a little room. Truly, I would the gods had made thee poetical.
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whats here a cup closed in my true loves hand poisin i see hath been his timeless end. oh churl drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after. i will kiss thy lips some poisin doth hang on them, to help me die with a restorative. thy lips are warm. yea noise then ill be brief oh happy dagger this is thy sheath. there rust and let me die.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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Tell me, daughter Juliet, How stands your dispositions to be married It is an honor that I dream not of
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
William Shakespeare
When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand.
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For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, I'll gild it with the happiest terms I have.
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O excellent! I love long life better than figs.
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Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.
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My affection hath an unknown bottom, like the Bay of Portugal.
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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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