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    Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

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  8  /  11  

What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. read more

What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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  8  /  34  

From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. -Much Ado about Nothing. read more

From the crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. -As You Like It. Act read more

Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

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  15  /  14  

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth. -King John. Act i. Sc. 1.

Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth. -King John. Act i. 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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  9  /  10  

I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat read more

I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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  4  /  10  

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, Nor to one place. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

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  5  /  5  

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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I would fain die a dry death. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

I would fain die a dry death. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

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