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This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. read more
This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. read more
And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter; For new-made honour doth forget men's names. -King John. Act i. Sc. 1.
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.
A mockery king of snow. -King Richard II. Act iv. Sc. 1.
A mockery king of snow. -King Richard II. Act iv. Sc. 1.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls read more
When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls the craft
Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed
The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled
Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled
With melody divine.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,— Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act read more
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,— Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act v. Sc. 2.
O, good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for read more
O, good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3.
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
