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The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our own virtues.
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
Proud
Whipped
Virtue
Cherished
Together
Crimes
Good
Virtues
Would
Ill
Life
Faults
Despair
Mingled
Crime
Yarn
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Marriage is a matter of more worth Than to be dealt in by attorneyship.
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Short summers lightly have a forward spring.
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One fairer than my love? The all-seeing sun Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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Enough no more Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
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Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
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These flowers are like the pleasures of the world.
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Wolves and bears, they say, casting their savagery aside, have done like offices of pity.
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But let the frame of things disjoint, both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly.
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Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
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Say, thou art mine and ever, My love, as it begins, shall so persevere
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Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
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For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase.
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Take pains. Be perfect.
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How hard it is to hide the sparks of Nature!
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She's beautiful, and therefore to be wooed She is a woman, therefore to be won.
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But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st thy light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.
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The clock upbraids me with the waste of time.
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Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
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In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond.
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