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This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
This is the very false gallop of verses. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. read more
The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iv. Sc. 3.
I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? -The read more
I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
The inaudible and noiseless foot of Time. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more
The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being read more
They say, best men are moulded out of faults, And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad. -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.
What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
