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Poor wretches that depend On greatness' favor, dream as I have done Wake, and find nothing.
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
Done
Wake
Greatness
Court
Depends
Poor
Wretches
Dream
Favor
Find
Depend
Nothing
Favors
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For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
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Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say good night till it be morrow.
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Shall remain! Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute 'shall'?
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Things base and vile, holding no quantity, love can transpose to form and dignity
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Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven by breath of her renown Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.
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There was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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Affection faints not like a pale-faced coward, But then woos best when most his choice is froward.
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Yet but three come one more. Two of both kinds make up four. Ere she comes curst and sad. Cupid is a knavish lad. Thus to make poor females mad.
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By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust ensuing danger as, by proof, we see the waters swell before a boisterous storm.
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The love of wicked men converts to fear That fear to hate, and hate turns one or both To worthy danger and deserved death.
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Beauty lives with kindness.
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Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
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Ambition, the soldier's virtue.
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However wickedness outstrips men, it has no wings to fly from God.
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Give me a bowl of wine, In this I bury all unkindness.
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Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears Had left the flushing of her gallèd eyes, She married. O, most wicked speed, to post With such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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I'll forbear And am fallen out with my more headier will To take the indisposed and sickly fit For the sound man.
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Look how the world's poor people are amazed at apparitions, signs and prodigies!
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You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
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Most friendship is faining, most loving mere folly: Then, heigh-ho, the holly. This life is most jolly.
William Shakespeare