This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege read more

This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

I am never merry when I hear sweet music. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

O, monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. read more

O, monstrous! but one half-pennyworth of bread to this intolerable deal of sack! -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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.

I know that Deformed. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

I know that Deformed. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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.

Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. read more

Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that read more

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,— Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. read more

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4.