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A poor thing, perhaps, but my own.
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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
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That is my home of love: if I have ranged, Like him that travels I return again, Just to the time, not with the time exchanged.
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Of all the flowers, me thinks a rose is best.
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Short time seems long in sorrow's sharp sustaining.
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Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog.
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Truth hath a quiet breast.
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He that dies this year is quit for the next.
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My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.
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Love is begun by time and time qualifies the spark and fire of it.
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Tis a cruelty to load a fallen man.
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Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy.
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Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
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These blessed candles of the night.
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Our doubts are traitors and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
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You taught me language, and my profit on't / Is, I know how to curse
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We cannot all be masters.
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By innocence I swear, and by my youth, I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, And that no woman has, nor never none Shall mistress be of it save I alone.
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My heart suspects more than mine eye can see.
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Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
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'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed, When not to be, receives reproach of being, And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed, Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing.
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He reads much; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men: he loves no plays, As thou dost, Antony; he hears no music; Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort As if he mock'd himself and scorn'd his spirit That could be moved to smile at any thing. Such men as he be never at heart's ease Whiles they behold a greater than themselves, And therefore are they very dangerous.
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Bad is the trade that must play fool to sorrow, Ang'ring itself and others.
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That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man, if with his tongue he cannot win a woman.