Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. read more

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

Now my soul hath elbow-room. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

Now my soul hath elbow-room. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

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.

Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That read more

Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That we no more our verse would scrawl,
For Shakespeare he had said it all!

I have a kind of alacrity in sinking. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.

I have a kind of alacrity in sinking. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.