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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounce it to you, trippingly on the tongue but if you mouth it, as many of your players do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my lines.
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
Player
Mouth
Stage
Players
Lief
Towns
Crier
Lines
Tongue
Pronounce
Speak
Pray
Whirlwind
Many
Mouths
Spokes
Praying
Spoke
Speech
Town
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it provokes the desire, but it takes away the performance
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the fire seven times tried this seven times tried that judgement is that did never choose amiss some there be that shadows kiss such have but a shadows bliss, there be fool alive, i wis silverd o'er, and so was this Take what wife you will to bed I will ever be your head. So be gone you are sped.
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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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I have heard of some kind of men that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste their valor.
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Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
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They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps.
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Men have marble, women waxen, minds.
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True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings.
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Adversity makes strange bedfellows.
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The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, doth glance from heaven to Earth, from Earth to heaven and as imagination bodies forth the forms of things unknown, the poet's pen turns them to shape, and gives to airy nothing a local habitation and a name such tricks hath strong imagination.
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Praise us as we are tasted, allow us as we prove.
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For who so firm that cannot be seduced?
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My pride fell with my fortunes.
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This act is an ancient tale new told And, in the last repeating, troublesome, Being urged at a time unseasonable.
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Some falls the means are happier to rise.
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Through tattered clothes, small vices do appear. Robes and furred gowns hide all.
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The readiness is all.
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Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.
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Ay, but to die and go we know not where To lie in cold obstrution and to rot This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendant world.
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I can no longer live by thinking.
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