And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It read more

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.

There 's small choice in rotten apples. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 1.

There 's small choice in rotten apples. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 1.

Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. read more

Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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.

A fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him. -Much Ado read more

A fellow that hath had losses, and one that hath two gowns and every thing handsome about him. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. read more

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand read more

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.