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Even in the afternoon of her best days. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7.
Even in the afternoon of her best days. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7.
Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. read more
Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2.
The true beginning of our end. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
The true beginning of our end. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. 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.
I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that 's made for read more
I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that 's made for me. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.
And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.
The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the read more
The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of
Shakespeare.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace read more
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.
