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...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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
Hath
Sadness
Blood
Much
Congealed
Frenzy
Nurse
Melancholy
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A man cannot make him laugh - but that's no marvel he drinks no wine.
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Graze on my lips and if those hills be dry, stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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To think but nobly of my grandmother: Good wombs have borne bad sons.
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My long sickness Of health and living now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things.
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My grief lies all within, And these external manners of lament Are merely shadows to the unseen grief That swells with silence in the tortured soul.
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I know a lady in Venice would have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch of his nether lip
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Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
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I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here, Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear.
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I have a soul of lead So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.
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Tis but a base, ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
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Hang him, swaggering rascal!
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