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. . . nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it he died As one that had been studied in his death To throw away the dearest thing he owed, As 'twere a careless trifle.
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
Life
Became
Owed
Like
Died
Dearest
Comfort
Trifles
Study
Careless
Death
Studied
Away
Sympathy
Nothing
Throw
Twere
Thing
Leaving
Trifle
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Some grief shows much of love, But much of grief shows still some want of wit.
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It warms the very sickness in my heart, That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, Thus diddest thou
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For I am nothing if not critical.
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For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
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I desire you in friendship, and I will one way or other make you amends.
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I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
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Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought, And with a green and yellow melancholy She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief
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O, beware, my lord, of jealousy It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.
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Against self-slaughter There is a prohibition so divine That cravens my weak hand.
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There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
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A cup of hot wine with not a drop of allaying Tiber in 't.
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