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To offend and judge are distinct offices, And of opposed natures.
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
Distinct
Opposed
Judge
Judging
Judgment
Office
Natures
Law
Offices
Offend
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The gray-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, Checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light.
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Kindness in women, not their beauteous looks, Shall win my love.
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My charity is outrage, life my shame And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!
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The native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought and enterprises of great pitch and moment, With this regard, their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.
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Love reasons without reason.
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Your face is a book, where men may read strange matters.
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Hang those that talk of fear.
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Thou call'st me dog before thou hadst a cause, But since I am a dog, beware my fangs.
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Do you not know I am a woman? when I think, I must speak.
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O me, you juggler, you canker-blossom, you thief of love!
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Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit All with me's meet that I can fashion fit.
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Fools are as like husbands as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's the bigger.
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He's a soldier and for one to say a soldier lies, is stabbing.
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Come, woo me, woo me, for now I am in a holiday humor, and like enough to consent.
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Good name in man and woman, dear my lord, Is the immediate jewel of their souls: Who steals my purse steals trash ’tis something, nothing ’twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.
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What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows?
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I bear a charmed life.
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
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Despair and die. The ghosts
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Truth will come to sight murder cannot be hid long.
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