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I am declined Into the vale of years.
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
Vale
Declined
Vapor
Years
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A smile cures the wounding of a frown.
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A hundred thousand welcomes: I could weep, And I could laugh I am light and heavy: Welcome.
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Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep.
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But when I came, alas, to wive, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain, By swaggering could I never thrive, For the rain it raineth every day.
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Pride went before, ambition follows him.
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Every man has business and desire, Such as it is.
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Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it, And therefore frame the law unto my will.
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I stalk about her door, like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks staying for waftage.
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Advance our standards, set upon our foes Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
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Then imitate the action of the tiger stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood.
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Are you sure/That we are awake? It seems to me/That yet we sleep, we dream
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O you beast! I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron, That you shall think the devil is come from hell.
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When lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, the gentler gamester is the soonest winner
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What sadness lengthens Romeo’s hours?
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I do I know not what, and fear to find Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. Fate, show thy force. Ourselves we do not owe. What is decreed must be and be this so.
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When daffodils begin to peer, With heigh! the doxy, over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.
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Live loath'd and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher friends, time flies Cap and knee slaves, vapors, and minute jacks.
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His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate his tears pure messengers sent from his heart his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth
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For this relief, much thanks
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Beauty's a doubtful good, a glass, a flower, Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour And beauty, blemish'd once, for ever's lost, In spite of physic, painting, pain, and cost.
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