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Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

Nothing comes amiss; so money comes withal. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  2  /  2  

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act read more

Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.

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  4  /  3  

And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. -King Henry IV. read more

And now am I, if a man should speak truly, little better than one of the wicked. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

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This is Ercles' vein. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

This is Ercles' vein. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  10  /  9  

Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. read more

Thus when I shun Scylla, your father, I fall into Charybdis, your mother. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 5.

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  6  /  6  

Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster. -As You read more

Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house; as your pearl in your foul oyster. -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 4.

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There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old. -King Henry read more

There live not three good men unhanged in England; and one of them is fat and grows old. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation read more

It is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and indeed the sundry contemplation of my travels, in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. read more

I am Sir Oracle, And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

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