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How easy it is for the proper-false in woman's waxen hearts to set their forms!
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
Form
Waxen
Heart
Unfaithfulness
Proper
False
Forms
Hearts
Woman
Easy
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God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.
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The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle that's curded by the frost from purest snow.
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To be, or not to be, that is the question.
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This we prescribe, though no physician Deep malice makes too deep incision Forget, forgive conclude and be agreed Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
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There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.
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When I have plucked the rose, I cannot give it vital growth again, It needs must wither. I'll smell it on the tree.
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Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won?
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All things that are, are with more spirit chased than enjoyed.
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So distribution should undo excess, and each man have enough.
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A kind Of excellent dumb discourse.
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He that is truly dedicated to war hath no self-love
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Be cheerful wipe thine eyes: Some falls are means the happier to arise
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair The ornament of beauty is suspect, A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
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Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.
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You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.
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Who knows himself a braggart, Let him fear this for it will come to pass That every braggart will be found an ass.
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You must confine yourself within the modest limits of order.
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We should hold day with the Antipodes, If you would walk in absence of the sun.
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