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.

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in read more

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1.

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. -As You Like It. Act read more

The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Must I hold a candle to my shames? -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

Must I hold a candle to my shames? -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

Yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. read more

Thou hast damnable iteration, and art indeed able to corrupt a saint. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. read more

This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon, In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.