How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign read more

How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign of bliss and joy! -King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 2.

Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. -Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1.

Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges. -Twelfth Night. Act v. Sc. 1.

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use read more

The spinsters and the knitters in the sun And the free maids that weave their thread with bones Do use to chant it: it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

A very ancient and fish-like smell. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

A very ancient and fish-like smell. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

Superfluity comes sooner by white hairs, but competency lives longer. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that read more

Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. -Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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.