How now, foolish rheum! -King John. Act iv. Sc. 1.

How now, foolish rheum! -King John. Act iv. Sc. 1.

You shall comprehend all vagrom men. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

You shall comprehend all vagrom men. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

A rascally yea-forsooth knave. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

A rascally yea-forsooth knave. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky read more

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I have peppered two of them: two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell read more

I have peppered two of them: two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face; call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward: here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me— -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never read more

For aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. 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.