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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.
O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
O base Hungarian wight! wilt thou the spigot wield? -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England! -King Henry V. Act read more
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England! -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 8.
Are you good men and true? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Are you good men and true? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being read more
They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
That daffed the world aside, And bid it pass. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
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.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? -The Merchant of Venice. read more
Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. 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.
