And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Eating the bitter bread of banishment. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Eating the bitter bread of banishment. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words,— Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, read more

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words,— Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,— Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of read more

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

I do desire we may be better strangers. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I do desire we may be better strangers. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act read more

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act v. Sc. 6.

Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful read more

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. read more

Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1.