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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
Forgot
Grace
Goes
Nothing
Right
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What can be avoided Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods?
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Bounty, being free itself, thinks all others so.
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Such as we are made of, such we be.
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Sigh no more ladies, sigh no more, men were deceivers ever
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in that small [time] most greatly lived this star of England: Fortune made his sword, By which the world's best garden he achiev'd And left it to his son imperial lord. Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd King of France and England did this King succeed Whose state so many of had the managing, That they lost France and made his England bleed.
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So full of artless jealousy is guilt, It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
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Yon grey lines That fret the clouds are messengers of day.
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How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank Here we will sit, and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears soft stillness, and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony
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A miracle. Here's our own hands against our hearts. Come, I will have thee, but by this light I take thee for pity. Beatrice: I would not deny you, but by this good day, I yield upon great persuasion, and partly to save your life, for I was told you were in a consumption. Benedick: Peace. I will stop your mouth.
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A woman's thought runs before her actions.
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O, here Will I set up my everlasting rest And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars From the world-wearied flesh
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I'll look to like if looking, liking move.
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O that men's ears should be To counsel deaf but not to flattery!
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Exceeds man's might: that dwells with the gods above.
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See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. O, that I were a glove upon that hand That I might touch that cheek!
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When that churl Death my bones with dust shall cover.
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The breach of custom Is breach of all.
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We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.
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Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.
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