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I have been studying how I may compare This prison where I live unto the world And, for because the world is populous, And here is not a creature but myself, I cannot do it. Yet I'll hammer it out.
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
May
Studying
Live
Unto
World
Creature
Compare
Prison
Creatures
Populous
Study
Hammer
Cannot
Hammers
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I have shot mine arrow o'er the house And hurt my brother.
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I dare do all that may become a man Who dares do more, is none
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Away, you cut-purse rascal! you filthy bung, away! By this wine, I'll thrust my knife in your mouldy chaps, an you play the saucy cuttle with me. Away, you bottle-ale rascal! you basket-hilt stale juggler, you!
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Heaven give you many, many merry days.
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A glooming peace this morning with it brings The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head: Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished: For never was a story of more woe Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
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Remember thee! Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat In this distracted globe.
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I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
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For youth no less becomes The light and careless livery that it wears, Than settled age his sables, and his weeds Importing health and graveness.
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Who could refrain that had a heart to love and in that heart courage to make love known?
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My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease, Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except.
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The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are of imagination all compact.
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Affliction may one day smile again and till then, sit thee down, sorrow!.
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I have a kind soul that would give you thanks. And knows not how to do it but with tears.
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A stirring dwarf we do allowance give Before a sleeping giant.
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Words spoken can not be recalled so think twice before you speak.
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Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
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I care not, a man can die but once we owe God and death.
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The chameleon Love can feed on the air
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The path is smooth that leadeth on to danger.
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And either victory, or else a grave.
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