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    Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1.

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O, that he were here to write me down an ass! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.

O, that he were here to write me down an ass! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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  8  /  8  

And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ, And seem a saint read more

And thus I clothe my naked villany With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ, And seem a saint when most I play the devil. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3.

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All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; read more

All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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My heart Is true as steel. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.

My heart Is true as steel. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.

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The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The hand that hath made you fair hath made you good. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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All the learned and authentic fellows. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.

All the learned and authentic fellows. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he read more

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never
plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a
thousand.

by Ben Jonson Found in: Shakespeare Quotes,
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