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O, that he were here to write me down an ass! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
O, that he were here to write me down an ass! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado read more
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. read more
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Palsied eld. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Palsied eld. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
We will draw the curtain and show you the picture. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse read more
And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can read more
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. read more
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8.
