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Let there be gall enough in thy ink, though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter.
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
Matter
Gall
Enough
Goose
Writing
Geese
Ink
Pens
Thou
Though
Write
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You have lost no reputation at all, unless you repute yourself such a loser.
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This sleep is sound indeed this is a sleep That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd So many English kings.
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All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus There is no virtue like necessity.
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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He that dies this year is quit for the next.
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I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks.
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Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.
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The quality of nothing hath not such need to hide itself
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Highly fed and lowly taught.
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Haply a woman's voice may do some good When articles too nicely urged be stood on.
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Of all knowledge the wise and good seek most to know themselves.
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Hold, or cut bowstrings.
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When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth o'erflow? If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, Threatening the welkin with his big-swollen face?
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My life, my joy, my food, my ail the world!
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Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noontide night.
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Most friendship is faining, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly. This life is most jolly.
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Cowards die many times before their deaths the valiant never taste of death but once.
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Do all men kill the things they do not love ............ The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath: it is twice blest It blesseth him that gives and him that takes
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Benvolio- By my head, here come the Capulets. Mercutio- By my heel, I care not.
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O most delicate fiend! Who is't can read a woman? Is there more?
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