Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford read more

Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. 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.

A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. -King Henry IV. Part II. read more

A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3.

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.

In King Cambyses' vein. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

In King Cambyses' vein. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

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.

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them read more

He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. read more

And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

What, my dear Lady Disdain! are you yet living? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.