William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Thou troublest me; I am not in the vein. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 2.
No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know read more
No marvel, an it like your majesty,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tower so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till by broad spreading it disperse read more
Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till by broad spreading it disperse to naught
Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh
And sees fast-by a butcher with an axe,
But read more
Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh
And sees fast-by a butcher with an axe,
But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
Didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son read more
Didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
I am a Jew else, an Ebrew Jew. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
These most brisk and giddy-paced times. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
These most brisk and giddy-paced times. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Benedick the married man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
Benedick the married man. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.
Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. read more
Convey, the wise it call. Steal! foh! a fico for the phrase! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's read more
Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's this, a sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
What, up and down carved like an apple tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop.
Why, what's a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?
