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Sin, that amends, is but patched with virtue.
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
Virtue
Patched
Amends
Sin
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A light heart lives long.
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This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire.
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You speak an infinite deal of nothing.
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GLOUCESTER: Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty and so many my defects, As I had rather hide me from my greatness, Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But God be thanked. . . .
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You see me here, you gods, a poor old man, As full of grief as age wretched in both.
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T'is true: there's magic in the web of it.
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Men must endure Their going hence, even as their coming hither. Ripeness is all.
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One sees more devils than vast hell can hold
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The wound of peace is surety, Surety secure but modest doubt is called The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches To th' bottom of the worst.
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Truly the souls of men are full of dread: Ye cannot reason almost with a man That looks not heavily and full of fear.
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He was not so much brain as earwax
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When holy and devout religious men are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence so sweet is zealous contemplation.
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Get thee a good husband, and use him as he uses thee.
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Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here Within the circuit of this ivory pale, I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale: Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry, Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.
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Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.
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Give it an understanding, but no tongue.
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You have too much respect upon the world They lose it that do buy it with much care
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If by chance I talk a little wild, forgive me I had it from my father.
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He must needs go that the devil drives.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.
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