A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. -Love's Labour 's Lost. read more

A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.

And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It read more

And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I 'd set my ten commandments in your face. -King Henry read more

Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I 'd set my ten commandments in your face. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. read more

Call you that backing of your friends? A plague upon such backing! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act read more

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

A man I am, cross'd with adversity. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 1.

A man I am, cross'd with adversity. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. read more

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act read more

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.