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My father compounded with my mother under the Dragon's tail, and my nativity was under Ursa Major, so that it follows, I am roughand lecherous. Tut, I should have been that I am, had the maidenliest star in the firmament twinkled on my bastardizing.
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If all the year were playing holidays; To sport would be as tedious as to work.
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Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling tears are vain.
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What wouldst thou do, old man? Think'st thou that duty shall have dread to speak When power to flattery bows?
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Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.
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With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. And let my liver rather heat with wine, than my heart cool with mortifying groans.
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Oh, that way madness lies; let me shun that.
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The art of our necessities is strange That can make vile things precious.
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Happy are they that hear their detractions, and can put them to mending.
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O, my lord, You said that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.
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They say miracles are past.
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Let's all cry peace, freedom, and liberty!
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Because I cannot flatter and look fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy.
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By that sin fell the angels.
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It is my soul that calls upon my name; How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, like softest music to attending ears! -Romeo
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Is man no more than this? Consider him well. Thou ow'st the worm no silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, the cat no perfume. Here's three on's are sophisticated. Thou art the thing itself; unaccommodated man is no more than such a poor, bare, forked animal as thou art.
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...Vaulted with such ease into his seat, As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
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And what’s he then that says I play the villain?
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He is as full of valor as of kindness. Princely in both.
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Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
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Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
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Examine well your blood.
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Keep time! How sour sweet music is when time is broke and no proportion kept! So is it in the music of men's lives. I wasted time and now doth time waste me.
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Things are often spoke and seldom meant.