Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. read more

Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. read more

The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. read more

Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2.

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or read more

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Is most tolerable, and not to be endured. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Is most tolerable, and not to be endured. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 3.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 1.

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.