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Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks
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
Thanks
Poverty
Poor
Even
Beggary
Beggar
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You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.
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Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no strength to repent.
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Wherefore was I to this keen mockery born? When at your hands did I deserve this scorn? Is't not enough, is't not enough, young man, That I did never, no, nor never can, Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye, But you must flout my insufficiency?
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Thus conscience does make cowards of us all And thus the native hue of resolution Is slicked o'er with the pale cast of thought
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The king-becoming graces, As justice, verity, temp'rance, stableness, Bounty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, I have no relish of them, but abound In the division of each several crime, Acting in many ways.
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Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible to feelings as to sight?
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A plague on both your houses.
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Watch tonight, pray tomorrow. Gallants, lads, boys, hearts of gold, all the titles of good fellowship come to you!
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For now they kill me with a living death.
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They do not love that do not show their love.
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For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy
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Away, you mouldy rogue, away!
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If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide, By self-example mayst thou be denied.
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Oh, injurious love, that respites me a life, whose very comfort is still a dying horror
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The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils.
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