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Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
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
Spirits
Forth
Object
Scaffold
Objects
Dared
Bring
Unworthy
Spirit
Pardon
Great
Flat
Flats
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The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
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Love like a shadow flies when substance love pursues Pursuing that that flies, and flying what pursues.
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Great men should drink with harness on their throats.
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Now I am past all comforts here, but prayer.
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To have seen much and to have nothing is to have rich eyes and poor hands.
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Love comforteth like sunshine after rain, But Lust's effect is tempest after sun Love's gentle spring doth always fresh remain, Lust's winter comes ere summer half be done Love surfeits not, Lust like a glutton dies Love is all truth, Lust full of forged lies.
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There's no art to find the mind's construction in the face.
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Strong reasons make strong actions let us go If you say ay, the king will not say no.
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If I could write the beauty of your eyes And in fresh numbers number all your graces, The age to come would say, 'This poet lies Such heavenly touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.'
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These times of woe afford no time to woo.
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We are not the first Who with best meaning have incurred the worst
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I must to the barber's, monsieur, for methinks I am marvellous hairy about the face.
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Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep.
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O, then I see Queen Mab hath been with you. . . . She is the fairies’ midwife, and she comes In shape no bigger than an agate stone On the forefinger of an alderman, Drawn with a team of little atomi Athwart men’s noses as they lie asleep.
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France is a dog-hole, and it no more merits the tread of a man's foot.
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I cannot, nor I will not hold me still My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.
William Shakespeare
Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.
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Art thou afeard To be the same in thine own act and valour As thou art in desire? Wouldst thou have that Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, And live a coward in thine own esteem, Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would,' Like the poor cat i' the adage?
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Where souls do couch on flowers we'll hand in hand.
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