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Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, Brags of his substance, not of ornament: They are but beggars that can count their worth But my true love is grown to such excess, I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth.
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
Rich
Beggar
Half
Conceit
Words
Excess
True
Count
Brags
Cannot
Grown
Beggars
Matter
Substance
Ornament
Love
Worth
Conceited
Wealth
Brag
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The due of honor in no point omit.
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Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
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Falsehood falsehood cures
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No man means evil but the devil, and we shall know him by his horns.
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I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world.
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Be stirring as the time be fire with fire. Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow Of bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes, That borrow their behaviors from the great, Grow great by your example and put on The dauntless spirit of resolution.
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Brutus, I do observe you now of late: I have not from your eyes that gentleness And show of love as I was wont to have: You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand Over your friend that loves you. Poor Brutus, with himself at war, Forgets the shows of love to other men.
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Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition
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All pity choked with custom of fell deeds.
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See the minutes, how they run, How many make the hour full complete How many hours bring about the day How many days will finish up the year How many years a mortal man may live.
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I am not merry, but I do beguile the thing I am by seeming otherwise.
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Speak to me as to thy thinkings, As thou dost ruminate, and give thy worst of thoughts The worst of words.
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Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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Lay not that flattering unction to your soul, That not your trespass but my madness speaks.
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My crown is in my heart, not on my head.
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