Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

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.

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite read more

Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace read more

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Where the bee sucks, there suck I; In a cowslip's bell I lie. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.