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Happy thou art not; for what thou hast not, still thou strivest to get; and what thou hast, forgettest.
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The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us.
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He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece.
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For which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?
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If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.
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My noble father, I do perceive here a divided duty. To you I am bound for life and education. My life and education both do learn me How to respect you. You are the lord of my duty, I am hitherto your daughter. But here’s my husband, And so much duty as my mother showed To you, preferring you before her father, So much I challenge that I may profess Due to the Moor my lord.
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Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed The dear repose for limbs with travel tired; But then begins a journey in my head To work my mind, when body's work's expir'd: For then my thoughts-from far where I abide- Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee, And keep my drooping eyelids open wide, Looking on darkness which the blind do see: Save that my soul's imaginary sight Presents thy shadow to my sightless view, Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night, Makes black night beauteous and her old face new. Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind, For thee, and for myself no quiet find.
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Oh, I have passed a miserable night, so full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams!
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Flout 'em, and scout 'em; and scout 'em, and flout 'em; / Thought is free.
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From this day to the ending of the world, But we in it shall be remembered- We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; For he to-day that sheds his blood with me Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile, This day shall gentle his condition; And gentlemen in England now-a-bed Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here, And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.
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We are advertis'd by our loving friends.
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And to be merry best becomes you; for, out of question, you were born in a merry hour. BEATRICE No, sure, my lord, my mother cried; but then there was a star danced, and under that was I born.
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A man I am cross'd with adversity.
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The Foole doth thinke he is wise, but the wiseman knowes himselfe to be a Foole.
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I am not yet of Percy's mind, the Hotspur of the North; he that kills me some six or seven dozen of Scots as a breakfast, washes his hands, and says to his wife, 'Fie upon this quiet life! I want work.
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Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
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O! that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come; But it sufficeth that the day will end, And then the end is known.
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O excellent! I love long life better than figs.
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A hit, a very palpable hit.
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Look to her, Moor, if thou has eyes to see. She has deceived her father, and may thee.
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Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.
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When most I wink, then do my eyes best see
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Heaven is above all yet; there sits a judge, That no king can corrupt.
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That which in mean men we entitle patience is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.