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What e'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time.
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
Hours
Inaccessible
Time
Countryside
Melancholy
Shade
Neglect
Boughs
Desert
Creeping
Lose
Negligence
Loses
Eyelids
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I fill up a place, which may be better... when I have made it empty.
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Ay beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
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As love is full of unbefitting strains, All wanton as a child, skipping and vain, Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye, Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms, Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll To every varied object in his glance
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You dull ass will not mend his pace with beating.
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I have unclasp'd to thee the book even of my secret soul.
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In thy foul throat thou liest.
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To move wild laughter in the throat of death? It cannot be it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
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What I have done is yours what I have to do is yours being part in all I have, devoted yours.
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...too much sadness hath congealed your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy.
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O horror! Horror! Horror! Tongue nor heart Cannot conceive nor name thee!
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We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves And spend our flatteries to drink those men Upon whose age we void it up again With poisonous spite and envy.
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There live not three good men unhanged in England and one of them is fat and grows old.
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Inconstancy falls off ere it begins.
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A great perturbation in nature, to receive at once the benefit of sleep and do the effects of watching!
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What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? Beatrice: Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick?
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It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
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As chaste as unsunned snow.
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Many that are not mad have, sure, more lack of reason.
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Why, what should be the fear? I do not set my life at a pin's fee.
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