My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

My purpose is, indeed, a horse of that colour. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. read more

And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. Act i. Sc. 1.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That in a spleen read more

Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say, Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.

Make haste; the better foot before. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Make haste; the better foot before. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Tetchy and wayward. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Tetchy and wayward. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their read more

All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard; Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.