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1 |
I know death hath ten thousand several doors For men to take their exit. 1 |
Duchess of Malfi. Act iv. Sc. 2. |
2 |
’T is just like a summer bird-cage in a garden,—the birds that are without despair to get in, and the birds that are within despair and are in a consumption for fear they shall never get out. 2 |
The White Devil. Act i. Sc. 2. |
3 |
Condemn you me for that the duke did love me? So may you blame some fair and crystal river For that some melancholic, distracted man Hath drown’d himself in ’t. |
The White Devil. Act iii. Sc. 2. |
4 |
Glories, like glow-worms, afar off shine bright, But look’d too near have neither heat nor light. 3 |
The White Devil. Act iv. Sc. 4. |
5 |
Call for the robin-redbreast and the wren, Since o’er shady groves they hover, And with leaves and flowers do cover The friendless bodies of unburied men. |
The White Devil. Act v. Sc. 2. |
6 |
Is not old wine wholesomest, old pippins toothsomest, old wood burns brightest, old linen wash whitest? Old soldiers, sweetheart, are surest, and old lovers are soundest. 4 |
Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2. |
7 |
I saw him now going the way of all flesh. |
Westward Hoe. Act ii. Sc. 2. |