There 's a skirmish of wit between them. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

There 's a skirmish of wit between them. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

He hath indeed better bettered expectation. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

He hath indeed better bettered expectation. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste read more

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of read more

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

Give me another horse: bind up my wounds. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. read more

Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain-tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 1.

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,— A stage, where every man must play a part; And mine read more

I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano,— A stage, where every man must play a part; And mine a sad one. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.