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And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
I will be correspondent to command, And do my spiriting gently. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
A forted residence 'gainst the tooth of time And razure of oblivion. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
And thereby hangs a tale. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act iv. Sc. 1.
And thereby hangs a tale. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
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.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that read more
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,— Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
