Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.

Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor read more

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had read more

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I would give all my fame for a pot of ale and safety. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.