Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights read more

Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea: Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4.

Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and read more

Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3.

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day! -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act read more

O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day! -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act i. Sc. 3.

His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. read more

His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. -King Henry V. 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.

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.