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Henceforth, I'll bear Affliction till it do cry out itself, 'Enough, enough, and die.
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
Cry
Bears
Dies
Enough
Henceforth
Affliction
Till
Bear
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This is the third time I hope good luck lies in odd numbers. Away go. They say there is divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.
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Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.
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That is honor's scorn Which challenges itself as honor's born And is not like the sire. Honors thrive When rather from our acts we them derive Than our foregoers.
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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What a terrible era in which idiots govern the blind.
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Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?
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Crack'd in pieces by malignant Death.
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it is my lady! *sighs* o, it is my love! o, that she knew she were! she speaks, yet she sais nothing. what of that? her eye discourses i will answer it. i am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, having some business, do entreat her eyes to twinkle in their spheres till they return.
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A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us His dew falls everywhere.
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He that is thy friend indeed, he will help you in your need.
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So we grew together like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition, two lovely berries molded on one stem.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Delivers in such apt and gracious words that aged ears play truant at his tales And younger hearings are quite ravished So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
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The Hebrew will turn Christian he grows kind.
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Confusion now hath made his masterpiece.
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Men's evil manners live in brass their virtues we write in water.
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Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
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Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
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Now the fair goddess, Fortune, Fall deep in love with thee, and her great charms Misguide thy opposers' swords!
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I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, Than such a Roman.
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