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Accommodated that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated or when a man is, being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated,?which is an excellent thing.
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
Thing
Men
Accommodated
Whereby
Excellent
Thought
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Thou shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge of thine own cause.
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There is a history in all men's lives.
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I stand for judgment: answer: shall I have it?
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Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
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Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honor for an inward toil And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares.
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Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
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Suit the action to the word : the word to the action : with this special observance that you o'erstep not the modesty of nature.
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what cannot be saved when fate takes, patience her injury a mockery makes
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Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.
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Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty look, repeats his words, Remembers me of his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form
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Nothing teems But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, Losing both beauty and utility.
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I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballet-mongers.
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I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
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Love yourself and in that love not unconsidered leave your honor.
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Headstrong liberty is lashed with woe.
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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
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I shall show the cinders of my spirits Through the ashes of my chance.
William Shakespeare
Is she not passing fair?
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Here comes Monseiur Le Beau. Rosalind: With his mouth full of news. Celia: Which he will put on us, as pigeons feed their young. Rosalind: Then shall we be news-crammed. Celia: All the better we shall be the more marketable.
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