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Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death makes hard.
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
Sight
Whose
Death
Makes
Hard
Heart
Accustom
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Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words
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As a walled town is more worthier than a village, so is the forehead of a married man more honorable than the bare brow of a bachelor.
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Striving to better, oft we mar what’s well.
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What early tongue so sweet saluteth me? Young son, it argues a distemper'd head So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed: Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye, And where care lodges, sleep will never lie But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign.
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I will be free, even to the uttermost, as I please, in words.
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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That affable familiar ghost Which nightly gulls him with intelligence.
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Time's the king of men he's both their parent, and he is their grave, and gives them what he will, not what they crave.
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O heresy in fair, fit for these days, A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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Profit is a blessing, if it's not stolen.
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I once did hold it, as our statists do, A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much How to forget that learning but, sir, now It did me yeoman's service.
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Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on.
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There is a devilish mercy in the judge, if you'll implore it, that will free your life, but fetter you till death.
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Honor, riches, marriage-blessing Long continuance, and increasing, Hourly joys be still upon you!
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All things that we ordained festival Turn from their office to black funeral-- Our instruments to melancholy bells, Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse And all things change them to the contrary.
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Desperate times breed desperate measures
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There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distill it out.
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Madness in great ones must not unwatched go.
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God mark thee to His grace! Thou was the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed. And might I live to see thee married once, I have my wish.
William Shakespeare
Sweet are the uses of adversity which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, wears yet a precious jewel in his head.
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