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I do not know What kind of my obedience I should tender. More than my all is nothing nor my prayers Are not words holy hallowed, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities yet prayers and wishes Are all I can return.
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
Vanity
Kind
Empty
Worth
Vanities
Return
Hallowed
Holy
Tender
Prayer
Prayers
Words
Wishes
Wish
Obedience
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We few. We happy few. We band of brothers, for he today That sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother.
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If circumstances lead me, I will find Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed Within the centre.
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Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
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The Thane of Cawdor lives, A prosperous gentleman and to be King Stands not within the prospect of belief, No more than to be Cawdor.
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Farewell, good Salisbury, and good luck go with thee!
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Who is it can read a woman?
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Your face, my thane, is as a book where men May read strange matters. To beguile the time, Look like the time bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under't.
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The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part I have saved my life.
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No reckoning made, but sent to my account with all my imperfections on my head.
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Honor's thought Reigns solely in the breast of every man.
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That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings.
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Thou shalt be free As mountain winds: but then exactly do All points of my command.
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And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.
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Lend less than you owe.
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And his unkindness may defeat my life, But never taint my love.
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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights, that give a name to every fixed star, have no more profit of their shining nights than those that walk and know not what they are.
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So well thy words become thee as thy wounds.
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