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All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand! Oh, oh, oh!
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
Hand
Hands
Sweeten
Littles
Sleepwalking
Little
Perfumes
Arabia
Perfume
Guilt
Shame
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So loving to my mother, That he might not beteem the winds of heaven, Visit her face' too roughly.
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In sooth I know not why I am so sad. It wearies me, you say it wearies you But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn.
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But yet I'll make assurance double sure, and take a bond of fate: thou shalt not live.
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He uses his folly like a stalking-horse, and under the presentation of that he shoots his wit.
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Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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Good things should be praised.
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Bell, book and candle shall not drive me back, When gold and silver becks me to come on.
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I have supped full with horrors.
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So get the start of the majestic world And bear the palm alone.
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Tis not a year or two shows us a man: They are all but stomachs, and we all but food They eat us hungerly, and when they are full They belch us.
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The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
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What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine eyes Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts.
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