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Who alone suffers suffers most i' th' mind, Leaving free things and happy shows behind But then the mind much sufferance doth o'erskip When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship.
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
Things
Behind
Bearing
Alone
Fellowship
Suffering
Doth
Happy
Mates
Free
Hath
Shows
Leaving
Much
Grief
Sufferance
Mind
Behinds
Suffers
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Hear the meaning within the word.
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For the poor wren (The most diminutive of birds) will fight, Her young ones in her nest, against the owl.
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Thou weedy elf-skinned canker-blossom!
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Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
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And will he not come again? And will he not come again? No, no, he is dead. Go to thy deathbed. He never will come again.
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Hopeless and helpless doth Egeon wend, But to procrastinate his liveless end.
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The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.
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Two women placed together makes cold weather.
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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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These are the forgeries of jealousy And never, since the middle summer's spring, Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead, By paved fountain or by rushy brook, Or in the beached margent of the sea, To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
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For this, be sure, tonight thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up. Urchins Shall forth at vast of night that they may work All exercise on thee. Thou shalt be pinched As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than bees that made 'em.
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thou art the best o' the cut-throats
William Shakespeare
There are a sort of men, whose visages Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond And do a willful stillness entertain, With purpose to be dressed in an opinion Of wisdom, gravity profound conceit As who should say, I am sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
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Pleasure and action make the hours seem short.
William Shakespeare
At Christmas, I no more desire a rose.
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Time is the old justice that examines all such offenders, and let Time try.
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How much salt water thrown away in waste/ To season love, that of it doth not taste.
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No, I will be the pattern of all patience I will say nothing.
William Shakespeare
The devil shall have his bargain for he was never yet a breaker of proverbs--he will give the devil his due.
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Desperate times breed desperate measures
William Shakespeare