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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure let us be jocund
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
Joy
Full
Pleasure
Merry
Thou
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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Tis in ourselves that we are thus or thus. Our bodies are our gardens to the which our wills are gardeners.
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My crown is in my heart, not on my head.
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I thank you all and here dismiss you all, and to the love and favor of my country commit myself, my person, and the cause.
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Throw physic to the dogs I'll none of it.
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If your mind dislike anything obey it
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The big round tears Cours'd one another down his innocent nose, In piteous chase.
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Confess yourself to heaven, Repent what's past, avoid what is to come, And do not spread the compost on the weeds To make them ranker.
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By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.
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Two may keep counsel putting one away!
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My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree Murder, stern murder in the dir'st degree, Throng to the bar, crying all, 'Guilty!, guilty!
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Besides, they are our outward consciences, And preachers to us all, admonishing That we should drew us fairly for our end.
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I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap
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The gallantry of his grief did put me into a towering passion.
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Of one that lov'd not wisely but too well.
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As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown.
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His forward voice now is to speak well of his friend. His backward voice is to utter foul speeches and to detract.
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Ten masts make not the altitude Which thou hast perpendicularly fell. Thy life's a miracle.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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Best men oft are moulded out of faults.
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