Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 5.

O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. read more

O, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Happy man be his dole! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Happy man be his dole! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To read more

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, read more

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.

I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. read more

I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

I will scarce think you have swam in a gondola. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge read more

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there read more

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.