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If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England! -King Henry V. Act read more
An arrant traitor as any is in the universal world, or in France, or in England! -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 8.
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
O, monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. read more
O, monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Speak low if you speak love. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Speak low if you speak love. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Service is no heritage. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
Service is no heritage. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
I 'll not budge an inch. -The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1.
I 'll not budge an inch. -The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1.
And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. read more
And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
