1963 ordspråk av William Shakespeare
William Shakespeare
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
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But to my mind, though I am native here And to the manner born, it is a custom more honored in the breach than the observance
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But when her lips were ready for his pay, He winks, and turns his lips another way.
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But when I tell him he hates flatterers, He says he does, being then most flattered
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But when they seldom come, they wished for come.
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But will they come when you do call for them?
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But words are words; I never yet did hear That the bruised heart was pierced through the ear.
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But yet, I'll make assurance double sure, And take a bond of fate.
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But, good my brother, do not, as some ungracious pastors do. Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine himself the primrose path of dalliance treads and wrecks not his own.
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But, soft! methinks I scent the morning air.
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By and by is easily said.
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By heaven, he echoes me, As if there were some monster in his thought Too hideous to be shown.
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By indirections find directions out.
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By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death will seize the doctor too.
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By my penny of observation.
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