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But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness.
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
Grows
Withering
Dies
Blessedness
Happy
Thorn
Lives
Virgin
Life
Virgins
Theseus
Rose
Distill
Flower
Midsummer
Single
Thrice
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... And death unloads thee.
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And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.
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Yet writers say, as in the sweetest bud The eating canter dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.
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Oh! that you could turn your eyes towards the napes of your necks, and make but an interior survey of your good selves.
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And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.
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The breach of custom Is breach of all.
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And, if you love me, as I think you do, let's kiss and part, for we have much to do
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I'll privily away I love the people, But do not like to stage me to their eyes Though it do well, I do not relish well Their loud applause and aves vehement, Nor do I think the man of safe discretion That does not affect it.
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A young man married is a man that's marred.
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The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.
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Then love-devouring Death do what he dare.
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Come the three corners of the world in arms, and we shall shock them.
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If we are true to ourselves, we can not be false to anyone.
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