My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An read more

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The cankers of a calm world and a long peace. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.

The cankers of a calm world and a long peace. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to read more

The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.

The king's name is a tower of strength. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

The king's name is a tower of strength. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.

If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him read more

As in a theatre, the eyes of men, After a well-graced actor leaves the stage, Are idly bent on him that enters next, Thinking his prattle to be tedious. -King Richard II. Act v. Sc. 2.

And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5.

And the vile squeaking of the wry-necked fife. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.