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    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.

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  10  /  8  

And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! -As You read more

And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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  9  /  4  

Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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  7  /  11  

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. read more

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

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Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

Let there be gall enough in thy ink; though thou write with a goose-pen, no matter. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. read more

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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Fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

Fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

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The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, read more

Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. -Coriolanus. Act i. Sc. 3.

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