With all appliances and means to boot. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

With all appliances and means to boot. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had read more

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to outdo the life:
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face, the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass;
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. -King Henry IV. Part read more

I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may. -The Merry read more

All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.

The kindest man, The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

The kindest man, The best-condition'd and unwearied spirit In doing courtesies. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that 's made for read more

I would that I were low laid in my grave: I am not worth this coil that 's made for me. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.