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Lechery, lechery still, wars and lechery: nothing else holds fashion.
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
Else
Stills
Still
Nothing
Lechery
Love
Holds
Wars
Fashion
War
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Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger, Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
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Mine honour is my life both grow in one Take honour from me, and my life is done.
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
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Too much to know is to know naught but fame.
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To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
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What need the bridge much broader than the flood?
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Her father lov'd me oft invited me Still question'd me the story of my life, From year to year, the battles, sieges, fortunes, That I have pass'd.
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The worm is not to be trusted.
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If the skin were parchment and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think.
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My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
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Great griefs medicine the less.
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Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
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I am a true laborer: I earn that I eat, get that I wear, owe no man hate, envy no man's happiness, glad of other men's good, content with my harm.
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It is as easy to count atomies as to resolve the propositions of a lover.
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And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd
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Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
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O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. . . .
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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To England will I steal, and there I'll steal.
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O villains, vipers, dogs, easily won to fawn on any man!
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