The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I 'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. -King read more

But in the way of bargain, mark ye me, I 'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

While you live, tell truth and shame the devil! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

While you live, tell truth and shame the devil! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An read more

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry read more

An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of, I am a pepper-corn. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. read more

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and read more

Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! each thing meets In mere oppugnancy. -Troilus and Cressida. Act i. Sc. 3.

What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.

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.