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    And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  10  /  12  

Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  6  /  8  

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1.

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  4  /  7  

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. read more

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  2  /  15  

Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. read more

Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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  6  /  10  

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  24  

Deeper than e'er plummet sounded. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Deeper than e'er plummet sounded. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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  11  /  17  

And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. read more

There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  11  

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. read more

I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

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