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The eagle suffers little birds to sing, And is not careful what they mean thereby, Knowing that with the shadow of his wings He can at pleasure stint their melody: Even so mayest thou the giddy men of Rome.
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
Suffering
Thou
Giddy
Littles
Wings
Eagle
Little
Careful
Suffers
Mean
Sing
Eagles
Even
Bird
Thereby
Men
Shadow
Rome
Knowing
Melody
Stint
Pleasure
Birds
Mayest
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The fashion of the world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it.
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Cry havoc! and let loose the dogs of war, That this foul deed shall smell above the earth With carrion men, groaning for burial.
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Nothing comes from doing nothing.
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There's rosemary and rue. These keep Seeming and savor all the winter long. Grace and remembrance be to you.
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Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
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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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To do a great right do a little wrong.
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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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Bait the hook well. This fish will bite.
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I 'gin to be aweary of the sun, And wish th' estate o' th' world were now undone.
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Summer's lease hath all too short a date.
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Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
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It is silliness to live when to live is torment.
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For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog.
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Get thee to a nunnery.
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My free drift Halts not particularly, but moves itself In a wide sea of wax no levelled malice Infects one comma in the course I hold, But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on, Leaving no tract behind.
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No, no 'tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself. Therefore give me no counsel: My griefs cry louder than advertisement.
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To be now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast!
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I do not hate a proud man, as I do hate the engendering of toads.
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The fool multitude, that choose by show, not learning more than the fond eye doth teach.
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