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    Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; And He that might the vantage best have took Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment, should But judge you as you are? -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

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The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can read more

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

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There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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  9  /  11  

An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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Makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

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My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2.

I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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