Let me take you a button-hole lower. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.

Let me take you a button-hole lower. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the read more

No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.

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.

Masters, spread yourselves. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

Masters, spread yourselves. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

"With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart," once more!
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare read more

"With this same key
Shakespeare unlocked his heart," once more!
Did Shakespeare? If so, the less Shakespeare be!

A very beadle to a humorous sigh. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

A very beadle to a humorous sigh. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute shall? -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Hear you this Triton of the minnows? Mark you His absolute shall? -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her read more

Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.