There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.

There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. read more

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts read more

Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.