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And in some perfumes there is more delight than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know that music hath a far more pleasing sound.
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
Music
Hath
Wells
Breath
Well
Breaths
Love
Delight
Reeks
Loss
Perfumes
Hear
Pleasing
Sound
Perfume
Speak
Mistress
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For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder.
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Till all grace be in one woman, one woman shall not come in my grace.
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Like as the waves make towards the pebbl'd shore, so do our minutes, hasten to their end.
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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I feel it gone, yet know not when it left.
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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Tis better using France than trusting France Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas, Which He hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.
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Now he'll outstare the lightning. To be furious Is to be frightened out of fear.
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All furnished, all in arms All plum'd like estridges that with the wind Bated like eagles having lately bathed Glittering in golden coats like images As full of spirit as the month of May And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls.
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I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.
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Time is the king of men.
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O, a kiss Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge! Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss I carried from thee, dear, and my true lip Hath virgined it e'er since.
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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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To hell, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! I dare damnation: To this point I stand,-- That both the worlds I give to negligence, Let come what comes only I'll be reveng'd.
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O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
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Good wine needs no bush.
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Life every man holds dear but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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At this hour Lie at my mercy all mine enemies.
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