An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave. -King Richard II. Act iii. read more

And my large kingdom for a little grave, A little little grave, an obscure grave. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or read more

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the read more

I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. 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.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son read more

Didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.