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When once our grace we have forgot, Nothing goes right.
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
Nothing
Right
Forgot
Grace
Goes
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Pardon's the word to all.
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Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
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Gently to hear, kindly to judge.
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What have we here? a man or a fish? dead or alive? A fish: he smells like a fish a very ancient and fishlike smell a kind of not of the newest poor-John. A strange fish!
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My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind So flew'd, so sanded their heads are hung with ears that sweep away the morning dew.
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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Making night hideous.
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For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
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Come, Let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
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A woman would run through fire and water for such a kind heart.
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Dispute not with her: she is lunatic.
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Good wine is a good familiar creature if it be well used.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence and dumb presages of my speaking breast.
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God, the best maker of all marriages, Combine your hearts into one.
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Full oft we see Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly.
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New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous (Nay, let em be unmanly), yet are followed.
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Thus can the demigod Authority Make us pay down for our offense by weight The words of heaven on whom it will, it will, On whom it will not, so: yet still 'tis just.
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Who would be so mocked with glory, or to live But in a dream of friendship, To have his pomp and all what state compounds But only painted, like his varnished friends?
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