Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Truth will come to sight; murder cannot be hid long. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I know that Deformed. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

I know that Deformed. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

I am not in the roll of common men. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I am not in the roll of common men. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste read more

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

To sell a bargain well is as cunning as fast and loose. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. read more

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me From mine own library with volumes that I prize above my dukedom. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act read more

He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.