I 'll tickle your catastrophe. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

I 'll tickle your catastrophe. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in read more

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.

Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. read more

Falstaff sweats to death, And lards the lean earth as he walks along. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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.

To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.

To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.

And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak. -King Henry VI. Part III. read more

And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timbered oak. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Neither rhyme nor reason. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Neither rhyme nor reason. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can read more

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.