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    They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

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Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

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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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An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry read more

An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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  6  /  9  

Young in limbs, in judgment old. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Young in limbs, in judgment old. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. -King Richard II. read more

All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

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What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  10  /  9  

Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. read more

Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 5.

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And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5.

And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5.

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He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act read more

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

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