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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.
'T is not in the bond. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
'T is not in the bond. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
The cankers of a calm world and a long peace. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.
The cankers of a calm world and a long peace. -King Henry IV. Part I. 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.
The mirror of all courtesy. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 1.
The mirror of all courtesy. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 1.
O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 2.
O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side! -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 2.
You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
You two are book-men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
