We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

We cannot hold mortality's strong hand. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

If I say that Shakespeare is the greatest of intellects, I have
said all concerning him. But there is read more

If I say that Shakespeare is the greatest of intellects, I have
said all concerning him. But there is more in Shakespeare's
intellect than we have yet seen. It is what I call an
unconscious intellect; there is more virtue in it that he himself
is aware of.

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. read more

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse read more

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. read more

There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

I 'll not budge an inch. -The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1.

I 'll not budge an inch. -The Taming of the Shrew. Induc. Sc. 1.

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can read more

The lunatic, the lover, and the poet Are of imagination all compact: One sees more devils than vast hell can hold, That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic, Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven; And as imagination bodies forth The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing A local habitation and a name. Such tricks hath strong imagination, That if it would but apprehend some joy, It comprehends some bringer of that joy; Or in the night, imagining some fear, How easy is a bush supposed a bear! -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.

Are you good men and true? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Are you good men and true? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.