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Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down. -King Richard III. Act iii. read more
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast, Ready with every nod to tumble down. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. read more
I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
He must needs go that the devil drives. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.
O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way Of starved people. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, being, whereby a' may read more
Accommodated; that is, when a man is, as they say, accommodated; or when a man is, being, whereby a' may be thought to be accommodated,—which is an excellent thing. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
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.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
