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In sweet music is such art: killing care and grief of heart fall asleep, or hearing, die.
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
Care
Killing
Music
Grief
Heart
Musician
Comfort
Sweet
Dies
Orpheus
Fall
Asleep
Art
Hearing
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False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
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Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
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Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
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And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot.
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Be merry you have cause, so have we all, of joy for our escape is much beyond our loss . . . . then wisely weigh our sorrow with our comfort.
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O polished perturbation! golden care! That keep'st the ports of slumber open wide To many a watchful night.
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Our content Is our best having.
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'Tis pride that pulls the country down.
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Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
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I am as vigilant as a cat to steal cream.
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A pair of star-crossed lovers.
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A sympathy in choice.
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Adieu, adieu, adieu! remember me.
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