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To persevere In obstinate condolement is a course Of impious stubbornness: 'tis unmanly grief.
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No stony bulwark can resist the love, and love dares what anyone can love.
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I am wealthy in my friends.
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Jesu, Jesu, the mad days that I have spent! And to see how many of my old acquaintance are dead!
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Where the greater malady is fixed, The lesser is scarce felt.
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Yes, faith; it is my cousin's duty to make curtsy and say 'Father, as it please you.' But yet for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome fellow, or else make another curtsy and say 'Father, as it please me.
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Self – love, my liege, is not so vile a sin, as self – neglecting.
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Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there.
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What else may hap, to time I will commit.
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Sweet love! Sweet lines! Sweet life! Here is her hand, the agent of her heart; Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn.
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You have witchcraft in your lips, there is more eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the French council; and they should sooner persuade Harry of England than a general petition of monarchs.
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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.
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Thus weary of the world, away she hies, And yokes her silver doves; by whose swift aid Their mistress mounted through the empty skies In her light chariot quickly is convey'd; Holding their course to Paphos, where their queen Means to immure herself and not be seen.
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Night's candles have burned out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountaintops." Hope tinged with melancholy - like life.
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It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
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As full of spirit as the month of May, and as gorgeous as the sun in Midsummer.
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Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not the toothache; but a man that were to sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, I think he would change places with his officer; for look you, sir, you know not which way you shall go.
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[S]ince brevity is the soul of wit, And tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, I will be brief.
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So weary with disasters, tugg'd with fortune, That I would set my life on any chance, To mend, or be rid on't.
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If you love an addle egg as well as you love an idle head, you would eat chickens i' th' shell.
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Now I will believe that there are unicorns.
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I have seen better faces in my time Than stands on any shoulder that I see Before me at this instant.
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To whom God will, there be the victory.
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Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.