Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
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I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. read more
I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, read more
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
The most senseless and fit man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
The most senseless and fit man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
We will answer all things faithfully. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
We will answer all things faithfully. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
He doth nothing but talk of his horse. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
He doth nothing but talk of his horse. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
Voltaire and Shakespeare! He was all
The other feigned to be.
The flippant Frenchman speaks: I weep;
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Voltaire and Shakespeare! He was all
The other feigned to be.
The flippant Frenchman speaks: I weep;
And Shakespeare weeps with me.
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.
