Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

Is it a world to hide virtues in? -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.

If he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. -King Henry read more

If he be not fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good fellows. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 2.

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, read more

In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, I oft found both. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

You shall comprehend all vagrom men. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

You shall comprehend all vagrom men. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask--Thou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge.

Others abide our question. Thou art free.
We ask and ask--Thou smilest and art still,
Out-topping knowledge.

Put thyself into the trick of singularity. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Put thyself into the trick of singularity. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; and read more

Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; and so was he. But we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with read more

When daisies pied and violets blue, And lady-smocks all silver-white, And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue Do paint the meadows with delight, The cuckoo then, on every tree, Mocks married men. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed read more

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.