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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
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
Green
Smiling
Thought
Cheeks
Like
Melancholy
Sat
Feed
Yellow
Concealment
Patience
Cheek
Grief
Monument
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Few things loves better Than to abhor himself.
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold What hath quenched them hath given me fire.
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As in a theatre, the eyes of men, after a well-graced actor leaves the stage, are idly bent on him that enters next.
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O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!
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What: is the jay more precious than the lark because his feathers are more beautiful?
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I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
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Thou frothy tickle-brained hedge-pig!
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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of loss, than gain which darkens him.
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I have not slept. Between the acting of a dreadful thing And the first motion, all the interim is Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: The Genius and the mortal instruments Are then in council and the state of man, Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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A man can die but once.
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