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O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! -The Merry Wives of read more
O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a year! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the read more
Lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak plain and to the purpose. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou read more
Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Dictynna, goodman Dull. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Dictynna, goodman Dull. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
This day is called the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day and comes safe home, Will stand a read more
This day is called the feast of Crispian: He that outlives this day and comes safe home, Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named, And rouse him at the name of Crispian. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Play out the play. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Play out the play. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute shall? -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute shall? -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.
For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never read more
For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
