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What a case am I in. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
What a case am I in. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible read more
Ay, but to die, and go we know not where; To lie in cold obstruction and to rot; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling region of thick-ribbed ice; To be imprison'd in the viewless winds, And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5.
Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5.
O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! -Much Ado read more
O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use read more
The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.
I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2.
I do now remember the poor creature, small beer. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2.
It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation read more
It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.