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Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!
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
Welkin
War
Horse
Gentlemen
Staves
Hard
England
Arrows
Yeoman
Broken
Bold
Archers
Proud
Horses
Amaze
Fight
Ride
Archer
Blood
Gentleman
Spur
Head
Draw
Fighting
Draws
Spurs
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If thou art rich, thou art poor for, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, thou bearest thy heavy riches but a journey, and death unloads thee.
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I can see he's not in your good books,' said the messenger. 'No, and if he were I would burn my library.
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Why should we rise because 'tis light? Did we lie down because t'was night?
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My love is thaw'd Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, bears no impression of the thing it was
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And blind oblivion swallowed cities up.
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Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news.
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Greatest scandal waits on greatest state.
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There's hope a great man's memory may outlive his life half a year.
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Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good a shining gloss that fadeth suddenly a flower that dies when it begins to bud a doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower, lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
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Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again: That she may long live here, God say amen!
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I am a Jew: Hath not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? fed with die same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?
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He does it with better grace, but I do it more natural.
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Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. Lady, as you are mine, I am yours: I give away myself for you and dote upon the exchange.
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Hang there like fruit, my soul, Till the tree die!
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Love all, trust a few, Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy Rather in power than use and keep thy friend Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, But never tax'd for speech.
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The hand of little employment hath the daintier sense.
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