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The truest poetry is the most feigning.
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
Feigning
Touchstones
Truest
Poetry
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Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn.
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My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent.
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The last taste of sweets is sweetest last.
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My brain more busy than the labouring spider Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
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Thou art as tyrannous, so as thou art, As those whose beauties proudly make them cruel For well thou know'st to my dear doting heart Thou art the fairest and most precious jewel.
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For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer-cakes, And hold-fast is the only dog.
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O Ceremony, show me but thy worth? What is thy soul of adoration? Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form, Creating awe and fear in other men?
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Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
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When rich villains have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what price they will
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My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
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Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts.
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The liquid drops of tears that you have shed Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl, Advantaging their loan with interest Of ten times double gain of happiness.
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Every why has a wherefore.
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My heart is turned to stone I strike it, and it hurts my hand.
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