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So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.
So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. read more
Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 3.
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 3.
Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.
Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.
This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure read more
When we mean to build, We first survey the plot, then draw the model; And when we see the figure of the house, Then must we rate the cost of the erection. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
