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    All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

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  6  /  8  

Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on read more

Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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  6  /  35  

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.

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  7  /  5  

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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  4  /  7  

-2 Watch.

-2 Watch.

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  4  /  11  

In his old lunes again. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.

In his old lunes again. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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Food for powder, food for powder; they 'll fill a pit as well as better. -King Henry IV. Part I. read more

Food for powder, food for powder; they 'll fill a pit as well as better. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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Neither rhyme nor reason. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Neither rhyme nor reason. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

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