Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. read more

Here will be an old abusing of God's patience and the king's English. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 4.

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. -A Midsummer read more

This passion, and the death of a dear friend, would go near to make a man look sad. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

By my penny of observation. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

By my penny of observation. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You read more

I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Many can brook the weather that love not the wind. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When read more

You take my house when you do take the prop That doth sustain my house; you take my life When you do take the means whereby I live. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. read more

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.