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Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.
Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.
All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed read more
All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains read more
Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of nothing, more than any man in all Venice. His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid in two bushels of chaff: you shall seek all day ere you find them, and when you have them, they are not worth the search. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal read more
Thou didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson week. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Nature teaches beasts to know their friends. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
Makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Makes a swan-like end, Fading in music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. 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.
