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I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. read more
I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
All the learned and authentic fellows. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.
All the learned and authentic fellows. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.
The rational hind Costard. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.
The rational hind Costard. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow read more
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.
That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 2.
That it shall hold companionship in peace With honour, as in war. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A royal train, believe me. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 1.
A royal train, believe me. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand read more
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise read more
The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
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.
