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If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt.
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
Upon
Memorable
Hope
Contempt
Another
Occasions
May
Beginning
Windsor
Better
Married
Decrease
Great
Grow
Familiarity
Love
Grows
Acquaintance
Heaven
Occasion
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Comets importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky And with them scourge the bad revolting stars.
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The thing of courage As rous'd with rage doth sympathise, And, with an accent tun'd in self-same key, Retorts to chiding fortune.
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O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
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Love goes toward love as schoolboys from their books, But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
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Fore God, you have here a goodly dwelling and a rich.
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Cupid is a knavish lad, Thus to make poor females mad.
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If our virtues did not go forth of us, it were all alike as if we had them not.
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How many things by season seasoned are To their right praise and true perfection!
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Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.
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This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
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Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might. Whoever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight.
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I have shot mine arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother.
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Cease thy counsel, for thy words fall into my ears as priceless as water into a seive.
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Don't trust the person who has broken faith once.
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A woman is a dish for the gods, if the devil dress her not.
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Aand in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
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Scorn, at first, makes after-love the more.
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Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow.
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