I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat read more

I have mark'd A thousand blushing apparitions To start into her face, a thousand innocent shames In angel whiteness beat away those blushes. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry read more

To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a little More than a little is by much too much. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A royal train, believe me. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A royal train, believe me. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 1.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 1.

This bold bad man. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2.

This bold bad man. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2.

I 'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

I 'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

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.

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.