This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the read more

A mad fellow met me on the way and told me I had unloaded all the gibbets and pressed the dead bodies. No eye hath seen such scarecrows. I 'll not march through Coventry with them, that 's flat: nay, and the villains march wide betwixt the legs, as if they had gyves on; for indeed I had the most of them out of prison. There 's but a shirt and a half in all my company; and the half-shirt is two napkins tacked together and thrown over the shoulders like an herald's coat without sleeves. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 2.

I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

Priscian! a little scratched, 't will serve. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it read more

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. read more

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. read more

Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.