William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act read more
I love a ballad in print o' life, for then we are sure they are true. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. read more
What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 3.
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
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The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold because you come not home;
You come not home because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.
This earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. read more
This earth that bears thee dead Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.
How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! -As You Like It. Act v. read more
How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes! -As You Like It. Act v. Sc. 2.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The mountain was in labour, and Jove was afraid, but it brought
forth a mouse.
The mountain was in labour, and Jove was afraid, but it brought
forth a mouse.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
