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No profit grows where no pleasure is taken.
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
Profit
Wealth
Grows
Pleasure
Taken
Money
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A little more than kin, and less than kind.
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I'll be at charges for a looking-glass And entertain a score or two of tailors To study fashions to adorn my body: Since I am crept in favor with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost.
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Now, God be praised, that to believing souls gives light in darkness, comfort in despair.
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I and my bosom must debate awhile, and then I would no other company.
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I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true.
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Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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I have drunk and seen the spider.
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Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
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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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Some kinds of baseness are nobly undergone.
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No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.
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The clamorous owl that nightly hoots and wonders At our quaint spirits.
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Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
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Experience teacheth us That resolution 's a sole help at need: And this, my lord, our honour teacheth us, That we be bold in every enterprise: Then since there is no way, but fight or die, Be resolute, my lord, for victory.
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Away, you trifler! Love! I love thee not, I care not for thee, Kate: this is no world To play with mammets and to tilt with lips: We must have bloody noses and cracked crowns.
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No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
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I love him for his sake And yet I know him a notorious liar, Think him a great way fool, solely a coward Yet these fix'd evils sit so fit in him That they take place when virtue's steely bones Looks bleak i' th' cold wind withal, full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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thus with a kiss I die
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I'll break my staff, bury it certain fathoms in the earth, and deeper than did ever plummet sound, I'll drown my book!
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