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But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act read more
But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow read more
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet read more
His heart and hand both open and both free; For what he has he gives, what thinks he shows; Yet gives he not till judgment guide his bounty. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iv. Sc. 5.
Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die! -King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3.
Under which king, Bezonian? speak, or die! -King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3.
Is most tolerable, and not to be endured. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Is most tolerable, and not to be endured. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my read more
O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are read more
'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
