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If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.

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We will answer all things faithfully. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

We will answer all things faithfully. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  14  

This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.

This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.

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  9  /  34  

Sits the wind in that corner? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Sits the wind in that corner? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. -A Midsummer Night's read more

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  9  /  8  

For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation. -King John. Act i. Sc. read more

For he is but a bastard to the time That doth not smack of observation. -King John. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  10  /  8  

And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. read more

And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  10  

For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

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The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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