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  13  /  14  

Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door. -King John. read more

Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  9  

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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  12  /  12  

Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

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  5  /  7  

There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -The Merchant of Venice. read more

There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  7  /  9  

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad. -As You Like It. read more

I had rather have a fool to make me merry than experience to make me sad. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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  7  /  11  

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. read more

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  5  /  7  

The why is plain as way to parish church. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

The why is plain as way to parish church. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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  11  /  10  

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. read more

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are read more

'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.

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