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Give to a gracious message An host of tongues, but let ill tidings tell Themselves when they be felt.
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
Giving
Ill
Message
Tongue
Messages
News
Tidings
Felt
Tongues
Tell
Gracious
Give
Host
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Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
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You are thought here to the most senseless and fit man for the job.
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Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound And through this distemperature we see The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose.
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The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst, 'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!
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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.
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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I loved Ophelia. Forty thousand brothers could not, with all their quantity of love, make up my sum.
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
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My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.
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Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear.
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth But like of each thing that in season grows.
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You told a lie, an odious damned lie Upon my soul, a lie, a wicked lie.
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But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He'll soon find means to make the body follow.
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Having nothing, nothing can he lose.
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Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light
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My liege, and madam, to expostulate What majesty should be, what duty is, Why day is day, night night, and time is time, Were nothing but to waste night, day and time. Therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
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Welcome ever smiles, and farewell goes out sighing.
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Fight to the last gasp.
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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