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The insolence of office.
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
Insolence
Office
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A jest's prosperity lies in the ear
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Discharge my followers let them hence away, From Richard's night to Bolingbrooke's fair day.
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Lord Polonius: What do you read, my lord? Hamlet: Words, words, words. Lord Polonius: What is the matter, my lord? Hamlet: Between who? Lord Polonius: I mean, the matter that you read, my lord.
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A fool's bolt is soon shot.
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Hope is a lover's staff walk hence with that And manage it against despairing thoughts.
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Romans, countrymen, and lovers, hear me for my cause, and be silent, that you may hear.
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Each present joy or sorrow seems the chief.
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No matter where of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth
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This is the very coinage of your brain: this bodiless creation ecstasy.
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The heavens themselves, the planets, and this centre Observe degree, priority, and place, Insisture, course, proportion, season, form, Office, and custom, in all line of order.
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If ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf and beaten, thou shalt find what it is to be proud of thy bondage.
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What should a man do but be merry? For look you how cheerfully my mother looks, and my father died within's two hours.
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So may the outward shows be least themselves The world is still deceived with ornament.
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Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance?
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Now all the youth of England are on fire, And silken dalliance in the wardrobe lies Now thrive the armorers, and honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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Would it not grieve a woman to be over-mastered by a piece of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marle?
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He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear: And you all know, security Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
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The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. An evil soul producing holy witness Is like a villain with a smiling cheek, A goodly apple rotten at the heart. O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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