Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.

Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge read more

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -The Merchant of Venice. read more

There is no vice so simple but assumes Some mark of virtue in his outward parts. -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.

Exceedingly well read. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Exceedingly well read. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

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.

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.