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What point of morals, of manners, of economy, of philosophy, of
religion, of taste, of the conduct of life, read more
What point of morals, of manners, of economy, of philosophy, of
religion, of taste, of the conduct of life, has he not settled?
What mystery has he not signified his knowledge of? What office,
or function, or district of man's work, has he not remembered?
What king has he not taught state, as Talma taught Napoleon?
What maiden has not found him finer than her delicacy? What
lover has he not outloved? What sage has he not outseen? What
gentleman has he not instructed in the rudeness of his behavior?
A man of my kidney. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.
A man of my kidney. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.
The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The king's name is a tower of strength. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The king's name is a tower of strength. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. -King Henry IV. Part read more
I am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -The Merchant of Venice. read more
There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
With all appliances and means to boot. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.
With all appliances and means to boot. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.
How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! -As You Like It. Act v. read more
How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 2.
The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the read more
The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of
Shakespeare.
