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[Measure for Measure continued.

They say, best men are moulded out of faults.

Act v. Sc. I.

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.

Ibid.

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS.

The pleasing punishment that women bear.

Act i. Sc. I.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

One Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain,

A mere anatomy.

Act v. Sc. 1.

A needy, hollow-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch,
A living dead man.

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.

Ibid.

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Ibid.

Speak low if you speak love.

Friendship is constant in all other things,

Save in the office and affairs of love:

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues: Let every eye negotiate for itself,

And trust no agent.

Ibid.

Much Ado about Nothing continued.]

Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

Lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of

a new doublet.

Act ii. Sc. 3.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,

Men were deceivers ever;

One foot in sea and one on shore ;

To one thing constant never.

Sits the wind in that corner?

Ibid.

Ibid.

Shall quips, and sentences, and these paperbullets of the brain, awe a man from the career of his humour? No; the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married.

Ibid.

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.

Act iii. Sc. I.

Every one can master a grief, but he that has it.

Are you good men and true?

Act iii. Sc. 2.
Act iii. Sc. 3.

To be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune, but to write and read comes by nature.

The most senseless and fit man.
You shall comprehend all vagrom men.

2 Watch.

How if a'will not stand?

Ibid.

Ibid.

Ibid.

Dogb. Why, then, take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave.

Ibid.

[Much Ado about Nothing continued.

Is most tolerable, and not to be endured.

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A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, when the age is in, the wit is out.

Ibid.

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! Act iv. Sc. 1.

I never tempted her with word too large;
But, as a brother to his sister, show'd
Bashful sincerity, and comely love.

I have mark'd

A thousand blushing apparitions

Ibid.

To start into her face; a thousand innocent

shames,

In angel whiteness, bear away those blushes.

For it so falls out,

Ibid.

That what we have we prize not to the worth, Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue, that possession would not show us, Whiles it was ours.

Ibid.

Th' idea of her life shall sweetly creep
Into his study of imagination.

Ibid.

Into the eye and prospect of his soul.

Ibid.

Much Ado about Nothing continued.]

Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. Activ. Sc. 2.

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O that he were here to write me down-an ass!

Ibid.

A fellow that hath had losses; and one that hath two gowns, and everything handsome about him.

Patch grief with proverbs.

Ibid.

Act v. Sc. I.

"T is all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow, But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency,

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LOVE'S LABOUR 'S LOST.

Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.

Act i. Sc. 1.

Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile.

Ibid.

Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk, and wot not what they

are.

Ibid.

And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper.

That unlettered, small-knowing soul.

Ibid.

Ibid.

A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Ibid.

The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but, I think, now 't is not to be found.

The rational hind Costard.

Acti. Sc. 2.

Ibid.

Devise, wit! write, pen! for I am for whole volumes in folio.

A merrier man,

Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal.

Ibid.

Act ii. Sc. 1.

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