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    Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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  3  /  7  

Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  3  /  8  

To leave this keen encounter of our wits. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.

To leave this keen encounter of our wits. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.

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I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  6  /  21  

He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. read more

He makes sweet music with th' enamell'd stones, Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge He overtaketh in his pilgrimage. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. -The read more

My meaning in saying he is a good man, is to have you understand me that he is sufficient. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

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I'll moider da bum.

I'll moider da bum.

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He is of a very melancholy disposition. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

He is of a very melancholy disposition. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

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As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more

As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.

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Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing read more

Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

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