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If little faults proceeding on distemper Shall not be winked at, how shall we stretch our eye When capital crimes, chewed, swallowed, and digested, Appear before us?
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
Little
Forgiveness
Winked
Appear
Chewed
Faults
Digested
Drinking
Swallowed
Crime
Proceeding
Shall
Stretch
Eye
Crimes
Littles
Capital
Distemper
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I wish you well and so I take my leave, I Pray you know me when we meet again.
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Thou whoreson, senseless villain!
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Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five wits? Malvolio: Fool, there was never a man so notoriously abused. I am as well in my wits, fool, as thou art. Feste: But as well? Then you are mad indeed, if you be no better in you wits than a fool.
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Dost thou love hawking? Thou hast hawks will soar Above the morning lark.
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Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude, and in the calmest and most stillest night, with all appliances and means to boot, deny it to a king?
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Lady, you are the cruel'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy.
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It is the witness still of excellency to put a strange face on his own perfection.
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I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
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O, the blood more stirs To rouse a lion than to start a hare!
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Not stepping over the bounds of modesty.
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Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounc'd it to you, trippingly on the tongue.
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Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires.
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The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
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You are an alchemist make gold of that.
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Why what a fool was I to this drunken monster for a God. - Caliban
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I must be gone and live, or stay and die.
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Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
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This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-Paradise.
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But as the unthought-on accident is guilty To what we wildly do, so we profess Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies Of every wind that blows.
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