All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
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Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. read more
Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5.
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.
And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I would 't were bedtime, Hal, and all well. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
I would 't were bedtime, Hal, and all well. -King Henry IV. Part I. 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.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.
I'll moider da bum.
I'll moider da bum.
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. read more
Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
