Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. read more

Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1.

God save the mark. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

God save the mark. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. -As You Like It. Act read more

Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, which in all tongues are called fools. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights read more

Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea: Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4.

True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

Oh, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful In the contempt and anger of his lip! -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.

These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing read more

These are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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.