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No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

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'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. read more

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

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  7  /  7  

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act read more

The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 1.

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Full bravely hast thou fleshed Thy maiden sword. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

Full bravely hast thou fleshed Thy maiden sword. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

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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.

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Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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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.

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'T were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it. -All 's Well read more

'T were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1.

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I would the gods had made thee poetical. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I would the gods had made thee poetical. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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