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At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
At my fingers' ends. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 3.
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.
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.
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two read more
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that read more
Take, O, take those lips away, That so sweetly were forsworn; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn: But my kisses bring again, bring again; Seals of love, but sealed in vain, sealed in vain. -Measure for Measure. Act iv. Sc. 1.
There 's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
There 's neither honesty, manhood, nor good fellowship in thee. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
A man I am, cross'd with adversity. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 1.
A man I am, cross'd with adversity. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 1.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. read more
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3.
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more
Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.
