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He is not worthy of the honey-comb, that shuns the hives because the bees have stings.
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Well, I will find you twenty lascivious turtles ere one chaste man.
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There is little choice in a barrel of rotten apples.
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There's a divinity that shapes our ends, Rough-hew them how we will.
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Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.
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O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth, / That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!
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O, she misused me past the endurance of a block.
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Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more.
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There was never yet philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently
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Die for adultery! No: The wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly does lecher in my sight
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Out, you tallow-face! You baggage!
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So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.
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Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant can trickle when she wounds!
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Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, Grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel; But do not dull thy palm with entertainment Of each new-hatch'd, unfledg'd comrade.
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When the sun shines let foolish gnats make sport, But creep in crannies when he hides his beams.
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O, let my books be then the eloquence And dumb presagers of my speaking breast, Who plead for love, and look for recompense, More than that tongue that more hath more expressed.
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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God, My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
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Now is the winter of our discontent.
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Do not plunge thyself too far in anger.
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Mine eyes smell onions: I shall weep anon.
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Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed King.
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Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot.
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Have patience, and endure
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Better be with the dead, Whom we to gain our peace, have sent to peace, Than on the torture of the mind to lie In restless ecstasy.