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He was ever precise in promise-keeping. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 2.
He was ever precise in promise-keeping. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 2.
In his old lunes again. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.
In his old lunes again. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.
A poor lone woman. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
A poor lone woman. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
He wears his faith but as the fashion of his hat. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes read more
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If read more
Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
