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The mightier man, the mightier is the thing That makes him honored or begets him hate For greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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
Greatest
Waiting
State
Hate
Mightier
Makes
Waits
States
Begets
Thing
Scandal
Men
Honored
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O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle.
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Though I be but prince of Wales, yet I am the king of courtesy.
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The hideous god of war.
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The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
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My language! heavens!I am the best of them that speak this speech. Were I but where 'tis spoken.
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I cannot, nor I will not hold me still My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
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I love you with so much of my heart that none is left to protest.
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Polonius: Do you know me, my lord? Hamlet: Excellent well. You are a fishmonger.
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Truly thou art damned, like an ill-roasted egg, all on one side.
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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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They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
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Lawyers Are: Perilous mouths.
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You are not wood, you are not stones, but men.
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But men are men the best sometimes forget.
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The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch.
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I am such a tender ass, if my hair do but tickle me, I must scratch.
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But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph.
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Some men never seem to grow old. Always active in thought, always ready to adopt new ideas, they are never chargeable with foggyism. Satisfied, yet ever dissatisfied, settled, yet ever unsettled, they always enjoy the best of what is, are the first to find the best of what will be.
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Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: to climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first: anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you: be to yourself As you would to your friend.
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