O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
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The fashion wears out more apparel than the man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
The fashion wears out more apparel than the man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Let 's go hand in hand, not one before another. -The Comedy of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1.
Let 's go hand in hand, not one before another. -The Comedy of Errors. Act v. Sc. 1.
Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That read more
Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That we no more our verse would scrawl,
For Shakespeare he had said it all!
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.
Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act read more
Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 1.
And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse. -King John. Act iv. Sc. read more
And oftentimes excusing of a fault Doth make the fault the worse by the excuse. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
