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O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout, Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
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
Strong
Breath
Decays
Time
Breaths
Battering
Summer
Stout
Rocks
Siege
Health
Steel
Hold
Decay
Shall
Gates
Days
Honey
Impregnable
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Company, villainous company, hath been the spoil of me.
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There's rosemary, that's for remembrance. Pray you, love, remember.
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Withal I did infer your lineaments, Being the right idea of your father, Both in your form and nobleness of mind Laid open all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose Untouch'd or slightly handled in discourse.
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Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions.
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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I'll read enough When I do see the very book indeed Where all my sins are writ, and that's myself.
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Read o'er this And after, this, and then to breakfast with What appetite you have.
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Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.
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All men's faces are true, whatsome'er their hands are.
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Is not birth, beauty, good shape, discourse, Manhood, learning, gentleness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, the spice and salt that season a man
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Thou knowest, winter tames man, woman, and beast.
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And writers say, as the most forward bud Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, Even so by love the young and tender wit Is turn'd to folly, blasting in the bud, Losing his verdure even in the prime, And all the fair effects of future hopes.
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Fill all thy bones with aches.
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The heart hath treble wrong When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.
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You know who you are, but know not who you could be.
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The heavenly-harness'd team Begins his golden progress in the east.
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While we lie tumbling in the hay.
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Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
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We must follow, not force Providence.
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I think thy horse will sooner con an oration than thou learn a prayer without book.
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