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You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. -King Henry IV. Part II. read more

He hath a tear for pity, and a hand Open as day for melting charity. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 4.

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  5  /  9  

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

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  13  /  27  

O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two read more

O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 1.

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  9  /  11  

An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.

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  6  /  7  

Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

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This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had read more

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to outdo the life:
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face, the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass;
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.

by Ben Jonson Found in: Shakespeare Quotes,
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When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with read more

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.

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