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    How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

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  5  /  8  

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out. -King Henry V. Act iv. read more

There is some soul of goodness in things evil, Would men observingly distil it out. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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  6  /  12  

I was now a coward on instinct. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

I was now a coward on instinct. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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  7  /  18  

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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  2  /  6  

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It read more

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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  3  /  17  

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

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  3  /  5  

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse read more

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

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  4  /  11  

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.

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  6  /  7  

Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

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  4  /  17  

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more

There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.

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