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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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
Art
Thou
Back
Thee
Like
Heavy
Whose
Journey
Consumerism
Rich
Bows
Poor
Ass
Death
Riches
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O! Let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven keep me in temper I would not be mad!
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These words are razors to my wounded heart.
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At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.
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Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.
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Women may fail when there is no strength in man
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Give me to drink mandragora.
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This we prescribe, though no physician Deep malice makes too deep incision Forget, forgive conclude and be agreed Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
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Live how we can, yet die we must.
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Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.
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Woe, destruction, ruin, and decay the worst is death and death will have his day.
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Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.
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All the world's a stage.
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Discuss unto me: art thou officer, Or art thou base, common, and popular?
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Rest you fair, good signior Your worship was the last man in our mouths.
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You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
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But indeed an old religious uncle of mine taught me to speak, who was in his youth an inland man one that knew courtship too well, for there he fell in love. I have heard him read many lectures against it and I thank God I am not a woman, to be touched with so many giddy offenses as he hath generally taxed their whole sex withal.
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Barnes are blessings.
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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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