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I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air.
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
Laugh
Air
Laughing
Fear
Durst
Pollution
Receiving
Opening
Lips
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Mechanic slaves With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall Uplift us to the view.
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How wayward is this foolish love that, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse and presently, all humble, kiss the rod.
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They do not love that do not show their love. The course of true love never did run smooth. Love is a familiar. Love is a devil. There is no evil angel but Love.
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Friendship is constant in all other things Save in the office and affairs of love. Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues. Let every eye negotiate for itself, And trust no agent for beauty is a witch Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.
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Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
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You take my life when you do take the means whereby I live
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But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
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Love sought is good, but given unsought, is better.
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A violet in the youth of primy nature, Forward, not permanent--sweet, not lasting The perfume and suppliance of a minute No more.
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O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis a double labor.
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
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It is the very error of the moon She comes more nearer earth than she was wont, And makes men mad.
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Lay aside life-harming heaviness, And entertain a cheerful disposition.
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But whate'er I am, nor I nor any man that but man is, With nothing shall be pleased 'til he be eased With being nothing.
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Twas a clever quibble. Here, a garment for it.
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The time is out of joint : O cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right!
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Hang him, swaggering rascal!
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For this relief much thanks. 'Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.
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O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple.
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