Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which read more

Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.

That would hang us, every mother's son. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

That would hang us, every mother's son. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had read more

Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. read more

Some smack of age in you, some relish of the saltness of time. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

Sits the wind in that corner? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Sits the wind in that corner? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.