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Their understanding Begins to swell and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.
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
Tides
Shore
Swell
Memorable
Shortly
Fill
Shores
Reasonable
Muddy
Begins
Approaching
Understanding
Tide
Lying
Foul
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POLONIUS: What do you read, my lord? HAMLET: Words, words, words.
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She marking them begins a wailing note And sings extemporally a woeful ditty How love makes young men thrall and old men dote How love is wise in folly, foolish-witty Her heavy anthem still concludes in woe, And still the choir of echoes answer so.
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If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not As to thy friends for when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend?
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A dream itself is but a shadow.
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Nature does require her time of preservation, which perforce, I her frail son amongst my brethren mortal, must give my attendance to.
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Guiltiness will speak, though tongues were out of use
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Happy thou art not for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get and what thou hast, forgettest.
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Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward.
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Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you?
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Me, poor man, my library Was dukedom large enough.
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Omittance is no quittance.
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Be checked for silence, But never taxed for speech.
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Tis gold Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief, Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
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Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.
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Time goes on crutches till love have all his rites.
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Would the cook were o' my mind!
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Farewell, my sister, fare thee well. The elements be kind to thee, and make Thy spirits all of comfort: fare thee well.
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God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.
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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which like two spirits do suggest me still: The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman coloured ill.
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