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Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. read more
Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act read more
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.
For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
For never anything can be amiss, When simpleness and duty tender it. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. read more
Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him read more
An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him a little earth for charity! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which read more
Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Young in limbs, in judgment old. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Young in limbs, in judgment old. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 7.
