Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. read more

Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door. -King John. read more

Saint George, that swinged the dragon, and e'er since Sits on his horse back at mine hostess' door. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that read more

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,— Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,— A stage, where every man must play a part; And mine read more

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,— A stage, where every man must play a part; And mine a sad one. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

Off with his head! -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Off with his head! -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 4.

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.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of read more

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my read more

O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. read more

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2.