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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
Prayer
Prayers
Words
Wishes
Wish
Obedience
Nothing
Vanity
Kind
Empty
Worth
Vanities
Return
Hallowed
Holy
Tender
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Time doth transfix the flourish set on youth And delves the parallels in beauty's brow.
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Miracles are ceased and therefore we must needs admit the means, how things are perfected.
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What, man, defy the devil. Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
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My chastity's the jewel of our house, bequeathed down from many ancestors.
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When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain.
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In delay there lies no plenty.
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Their understanding Begins to swell and the approaching tide Will shortly fill the reasonable shores That now lie foul and muddy.
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Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other side
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And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear, millions of mischiefs.
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Love sees with the heart and not with mind.
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With caution judge of probability. Things deemed unlikely, e'en impossible, experience oft hath proved to be true.
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It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion and all made of wishes, All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance
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At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth But like of each thing that in season grows.
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But I am constant as the Northern Star, Of whose true fixed and resting quality There is no fellow in the firmament.
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From this time forth My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing worth!
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Glory is like a circle in the water
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The tartness of his face sours ripe grapes.
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Be great in act, as you have been in thought.
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I will not be sworn but love may transform me to an oyster
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