Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

A very beadle to a humorous sigh. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

A very beadle to a humorous sigh. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act i. Sc. 1.

Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act i. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had read more

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. -As You Like read more

The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 1.

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible read more

Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. read more

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.