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Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow read more
O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.
He hath eaten me out of house and home. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
He hath eaten me out of house and home. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Winding up days with toil and nights with sleep. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.
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.
I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he read more
I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never
plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a
thousand.
