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An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye Give him a little earth for charity!
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
States
Among
Burial
Little
Dying
Resignation
Broken
Storms
Come
State
Weary
Giving
Age
Storm
Men
Earth
Lays
Give
Bones
Littles
Charity
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
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He was ever precise in promise-keeping.
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Laughing faces do not mean that there is absence of sorrow! But it means that they have the ability to deal with it
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By Heaven, I love thee better than myself
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In brief, sir, study what you most affect.
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The weary sun hath made a golden set And by the bright tract of his fiery car Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.
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Thy food is such As hath been belch'd on by infected lungs.
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This was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of CaesarHe only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!
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What power is it which mounts my love so high, that makes me see, and cannot feed mine eye
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I have no other but a woman's reason: I think him so, because I think him so.
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I am not bound to please thee with my answer.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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I have very poor and unhappy brains for drinking: I could well wish courtesy would invent some other custom of entertainment.
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Be bloody, bold, and resolute laugh to scorn the power of man.
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The seeming truth which cunning times put on to entrap the wisest.
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Now the good gods forbid That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude Towards her deserved children is enrolled In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam Should now eat up her own!
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