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Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.
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
Bye
Parting
Farewell
Goodbye
Meet
Shall
Friends
Love
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And worse I may be yet: the worst is not So long as we can say 'This is the worst.
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The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
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They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?
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Dreams, indeed, are ambition for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
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In time the savage bull doth bear the yoke.
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Melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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O sir, you are old nature in you stands on the very verge of her confine you should be ruled and led by some discretion, that discerns your fate better than you yourself.
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I had as lief have been myself alone.
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The extreme parts of time extremely forms all causes to the purpose of his speed.
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Perseverance... keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang quite out of fashion, like a rusty nail in monumental mockery.
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Now 'tis spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted Suffer them now and they'll o'ergrow the garden.
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And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.
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The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.
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Come, seeling night, Scarf up the tender eye of pitiful day, And with thy bloody and invisible hand Cancel and tear to pieces that great bond Which keeps me pale. Light thickens, and the crow Makes wing to th' rooky wood. Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, While night's black agents to their prey do rouse.
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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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For so work the honey bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom.
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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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Small things make base men proud.
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Faint heart never won fair maid.
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I am thy father's spirit Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night And, for the day, confin'd to fast in fires, Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, Are burnt and purg'd away.
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