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I think the devil will not have me damned, lest the oil that's in me should set hell on fire.
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
Hell
Fire
Think
Thinking
Lest
Damned
Oil
Devil
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Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem vile Filths savour but themselves.
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Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud but, God He knows, thy share thereof is small.
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Fairies use flowers for their charactery.
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Methinks you are my glass, and not my brother: I see by you I am a sweet-faced youth.
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Poise the cause in justice's equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
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O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
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I would not wish any companion in the world but you.
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To die, to sleep - To sleep, perchance to dream - ay, there's the rub, For in this sleep of death what dreams may come.
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When I was at home I was in a better place
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Weed your better judgments of all opinion that grows rank in them.
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A knavish speech sleeps in a fool's ear.
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But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike.
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Farewell, fair cruelty.
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I see, sir, you are liberal in offers. You taught me first to beg, and now methinks You teach me how a beggar should be answered.
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The wildest hath not such a heart as you. Run when you will, the story shall be changed: Apollo flies, and Daphne holds the chase The dove pursues the griffin the mild hind Makes speed to catch the tiger bootless speed, When cowardice pursues and valour flies.
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Of all base passions, fear is the most accursed.
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The fewer men, the greater share of honor.
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If thou engrossest all the griefs are thine, Thou robb'st me of a moiety.
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A woman's fitness comes by fits.
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Rumour is a pipe Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures And of so easy and so plain a stop That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, The still-discordant wavering multitude, Can play upon it.
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