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Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime...
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
Mother
April
Art
Glass
Back
Calls
Prime
Glasses
Lovely
Thou
Thee
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Never shame to hear what you have nobly done
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I'll have no husband, if you be not he.
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O, call back yesterday, bid time return
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The very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream.
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You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live.
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Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
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I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.
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That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
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Though men can cover crimes with bold, stern looks, poor women's faces are their own faults' books.
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But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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Instead of weeping when a tragedy occurs in a songbird's life, it sings away its grief. I believe we could well follow the pattern of our feathered friends.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.
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If he be so resolved, I can o'ersway him for he loves to hear That unicorns may be betrayed with trees And bears with glasses, elephants with holes, Lions with toils, and men with flatterers
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
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Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,- One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never.
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The wind-shak'd surge, with high and monstrous main, Seems to cast water on the burning Bear, And quench the guards of the ever-fixed pole.
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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We are ready to try our fortunes to the last man.
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Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Hath often stilled my brawling discontent.
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