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Of all complexions the culled sovereignty Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek, Where several worthies make one dignity, Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
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
Fair
Complexions
Dignity
Complexion
Seek
Cheek
Meet
Doth
Wants
Cheeks
Nothing
Sovereignty
Make
Several
Fairs
Culled
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Though it make the unskillful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve.
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To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end.
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A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
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There's such divinity doth hedge a king That treason can but peep to what it would.
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Of all the fair resort of gentlemen That every day with parle encounter me, In thy opinion which is worthiest love?
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Heaven take my soul, and England keep my bones!
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Women are not In their best fortunes strong, but want will perjure the ne'er-touched vestal.
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What is done cannot be now amended.
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O, then, what graces in my love do dwell, that he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell
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O for a horse with wings!
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Dreams, indeed, are ambition for the very substance of the ambitious is merely the shadow of a dream. And I hold ambition of so airy and light a quality that it is but a shadow's shadow.
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Men from children nothing differ.
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The Dear father Would with his daughter speak, commands her service Are they inform'd of this?
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Every inordinate cup is unbless'd, and the ingredient is a devil.
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Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted colour off ... Do not for ever with thy vailed lids Seek for thy noble father in the dust.
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Macbeth to Witches: What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire, That look not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth, And yet are on 't?
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I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be and be this so.
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Death is a fearful thing.
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Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind, As man's ingratitude.
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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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