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Though those that are betray'd Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor stands in worse case of woe
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When devils will the blackest sins put on They do suggest at first with heavenly shows
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You had measured how long a fool you were upon the ground.
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He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
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Thoughts are but dreams till their effects are tried.
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Your bait of falsehood takes this carp of truth, And thus do we of wisdom and of reach, With windlasses and with assays of bias, By indirections find directions out.
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Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
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A young man married is a man that's marred.
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Upon his royal face there is no note how dread an army hath enrounded him.
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I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porpentine. But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood. List, list, O list!
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Why, this hath not a finger's dignity.
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O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
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Either our history shall with full mouth Speak freely of our acts, or else our grave, Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless mouth, Not worshipped with a waxen epitaph.
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They told me I was everything. 'Tis a lie, I am not ague-proof.
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The prince of darkness is a gentleman!
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Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed.
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A politician... one that would circumvent God.
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To mourn a mischief that is past and gone Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
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Why should you think that I should woo in scorn? Scorn and derision never come in tears: Look, when I vow, I weep; and vows so born, In their nativity all truth appears. How can these things in me seem scorn to you, Bearing the badge of faith, to prove them true?
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Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.
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Being daily swallowed by men's eyes, They surfeited with honey and began To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. So, when he had occasion to be seen, He was but as the cuckoo is in June. Heard, not regarded.
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Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age have left me naked to mine enemies.
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So doth the greater glory dim the less: A substitute shines brightly as a king Until a king be by.
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You are not worth another word, else I'd call you knave.