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As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
True is it that we have seen better days. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
But man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, His glassy read more
But man, proud man, Drest in a little brief authority, Most ignorant of what he 's most assured, His glassy essence, like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven As make the angels weep. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
One out of suits with fortune. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
One out of suits with fortune. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. read more
Was ever woman in this humour wooed? Was ever woman in this humour won? -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act read more
A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
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.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
