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And wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
And wiped our eyes Of drops that sacred pity hath engender'd. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. -Twelfth read more
An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5.
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends read more
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet read more
His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iv. Sc. 5.
My cake is dough. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 1.
My cake is dough. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 1.
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a read more
Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took 't away again. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act read more
I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
