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Fortune reigns in gifts of the world. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
Fortune reigns in gifts of the world. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
No legacy is so rich as honesty. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iii. Sc. 5.
No legacy is so rich as honesty. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act iii. Sc. 5.
This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had read more
This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to outdo the life:
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face, the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass;
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.
Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Most forcible Feeble. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
Truth hath a quiet breast. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes read more
A jest's prosperity lies in the ear Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 2.
Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. read more
Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5.
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that read more
Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,— Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 1.