A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Like a fair house, built on another man's ground. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Like a fair house, built on another man's ground. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2.

We have heard the chimes at midnight. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

We have heard the chimes at midnight. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he read more

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never
plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a
thousand.

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with read more

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.

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.