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Service is no heritage. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
Service is no heritage. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
But man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, His glassy read more
But man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
Many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
Many-headed multitude. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Many-headed multitude. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them read more
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.
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.
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An read more
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Men of few words are the best men. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Men of few words are the best men. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 2.
