I cannot tell what the dickens his name is. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I cannot tell what the dickens his name is. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 6.

I thought upon one pair of English legs Did march three Frenchmen. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 6.

When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls read more

When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls the craft
Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed
The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled
Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled
With melody divine.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

An ill-favoured thing, sir, but mine own. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

The passages of Shakespeare that we most prize were never quoted
until within this century.
- read more

The passages of Shakespeare that we most prize were never quoted
until within this century.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson,

Now my soul hath elbow-room. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

Now my soul hath elbow-room. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

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.