I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like read more

I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

This night methinks is but the daylight sick. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

This night methinks is but the daylight sick. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

Who lined himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. read more

Who lined himself with hope, Eating the air on promise of supply. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to read more

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,— Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act read more

A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,— Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2.

The tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

The tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

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 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.