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Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1.
This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. 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.
My pride fell with my fortunes. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
My pride fell with my fortunes. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
"With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart," once more!
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare read more
"With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart," once more!
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare be!
Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be read more
Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
What a case am I in. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
What a case am I in. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can read more
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
