I am sure care 's an enemy to life. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

I am sure care 's an enemy to life. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more

If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his read more

Sweet are the uses of adversity, Which like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. read more

Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You read more

I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal read more

Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more

Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.