This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
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And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. read more
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. -King Henry read more
I would to God thou and I knew where a commodity of good names were to be bought. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 1.
So wise so young, they say, do never live long. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? -The Merchant of Venice. read more
Why should a man whose blood is warm within, Sit like his grandsire cut in alabaster? -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. -King Henry IV. read more
And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
