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Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts read more
Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Warwick, peace, Proud setter up and puller down of kings! -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Warwick, peace, Proud setter up and puller down of kings! -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? Learning is but an adjunct read more
For where is any author in the world Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye? Learning is but an adjunct to ourself. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Whose words all ears took captive. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
Whose words all ears took captive. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
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.
At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
Aggravate your choler. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Aggravate your choler. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Tester I 'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. read more
Tester I 'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack, Base Phrygian Turk! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
