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He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it read more
He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 2.
O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; And that it was great pity, read more
And telling me, the sovereign'st thing on earth Was parmaceti for an inward bruise; And that it was great pity, so it was, This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly; and but for these vile guns, He would himself have been a soldier. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me! -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
Charm ache with air, and agony with words. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
Charm ache with air, and agony with words. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, read more
Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Another lean unwashed artificer. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Another lean unwashed artificer. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.
The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An read more
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.