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I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
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
Tickle
Scratch
Scratches
Tender
Ass
Horse
Hair
Must
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Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack! At least we'll die with harness on our back.
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The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was.
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Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
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Ay, but to die, and go we know not where.
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Were it my cue to fight, I should have known it Without a prompter.
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Is this a vision? Is this a dream? Do I sleep?
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The sweetest honey Is loathsome in his own deliciousness.
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I will go wash And when my face is fair, you shall perceive Whether I blush or no.
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Now, infidel, I have you on the hip!
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Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear
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On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.
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I will keep where there is wit stirring, and leave the faction of fools.
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What light through yonder window breaks?
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In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.
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O, the difference of man and man! To thee a woman's services are due.
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Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
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I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart: but the saying is true 'The empty vessel makes the greatest sound'.
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But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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When I got enough confidence, the stage was gone. When I was sure of losing, I won. When I needed people the most, they left me. When I learnt to dry my tears, I found a shoulder to cry on. And when I mastered the art of hating, somebody started loving me.
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Good hay, sweet hay, hath no fellow.
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