O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
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This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.
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When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.
Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.
Your If is the only peacemaker; much virtue in If. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. read more
Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Tetchy and wayward. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.
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Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I 'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, read more
Time travels in divers paces with divers persons. I 'll tell you who Time ambles withal, who Time trots withal, who Time gallops withal, and who he stands still withal. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is read more
If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
An upright judge, a learned judge! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. read more
Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.
