Can one desire too much of a good thing? -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Can one desire too much of a good thing? -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Who with a body filled and vacant mind Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread. -King Henry V. Act read more

Who with a body filled and vacant mind Gets him to rest, crammed with distressful bread. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you, an 't were any nightingale. -A read more

I will roar you as gently as any sucking dove; I will roar you, an 't were any nightingale. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

One out of suits with fortune. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.

One out of suits with fortune. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that read more

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,— Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.