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Were beauty under twenty locks kept fast, yet love breaks through and picks them all at last.
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
Break
Beauty
Locks
Lasts
Breaks
Last
Twenty
Love
Twenties
Picks
Kept
Fast
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How many fond fools serve mad jealousy!
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A good heart is the sun and the moon or, rather, the sun and not the moon, for it shines bright and never changes.
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Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.
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Light and lust are deadly enemies.
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That is the way to lay the city flat, To bring the roof to the foundation, And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges, In heaps and piles of ruin.
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And keep you in the rear of your affection, Out of the shot and danger of desire, The chariest maid is prodigal enough If she unmasks her beauty to the moon.
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So many hours must I take my rest So many hours must I contemplate.
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Literature is a comprehensive essence of the intellectual life of a nation.
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A maiden hath no tongue--but thought.
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You are my true and honourable wife As dear to me as the ruddy drops That visit my sad heart.
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All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy.
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I have been long a sleeper but I trust My absence doth neglect no great design Which by my presence might have been concluded.
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Alas, their love may be call'd appetite. No motion of the liver, but the palate
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Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak Lay open to my earthy-gross conceit, Smother'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, The folded meaning of your words' deceit.
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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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My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
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A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of Fortune's More pregnantly than words.
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Waste not thy time in windy argument but let the matter drop.
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Never durst poet touch a pen to write Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs.
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Thou mak'st me merry: I am full of pleasure let us be jocund
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