Dear Bard!

Happy birthday Shakespeare! 

I would have written something grand, but you seem to have been in every corner of the world of words and given it a thorough shaking up and dusting down! Whatever one would have written, you have done already. 
You have supplied words to love with and swear by – (Wherefore art thou and the course of true love never did run smooth). 
You came up with the best words to curse with and generally make an enemy feel like a worm – (I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you came unarmed, lump of foul deformity and foot-licker). 
You gave us some of the best quotes – (When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married and We are such stuff as dreams are made on). Heck, you even gave us new words for things that sometimes would not be invented for centuries yet, like skim milk, obscene, eyeball and wormhole. 
Just imagine, without you, the English language would be as much use as T-Rex in a bed making contest, we would be drinking full cream milk and Star ships would be waiting around in our own universe instead of flying through time AND space.

Words, words, words! You are both arch-villain and addiction! You leave some of us bedazzled and others disheartened. If I took out all the things I plagiarised, nay borrowed, this whole post would be reduced to a string of lacklustre sentences that would read more like a lament than a love-letter! Merely a string of ___ sentences that would read more like a ____ than a ____!Image

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