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  12  /  11  

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 3.

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  10  /  10  

The very staff of my age, my very prop. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The very staff of my age, my very prop. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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  4  /  3  

A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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  8  /  7  

Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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  1  /  9  

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. read more

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5.

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There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good read more

There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  9  /  6  

They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  6  /  4  

Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a read more

Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took 't away again. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

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  9  /  6  

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there read more

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

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