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Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. -A Midsummer Night's read more
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain. -Love's Labour read more
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. read more
They have been at a great feast of languages, and stolen the scraps. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.
At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each read more
At Christmas I no more desire a rose Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth; But like of each thing that in season grows. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
I have peppered two of them: two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell read more
I have peppered two of them: two I am sure I have paid, two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee what, Hal, if I tell thee a lie, spit in my face; call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward: here I lay, and thus I bore my point. Four rogues in buckram let drive at me— -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. -King Henry IV. Part II. read more
A foutre for the world and worldlings base! I speak of Africa and golden joys. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act v. Sc. 3.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, read more
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve, And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on; and our little life Is rounded with a sleep. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.
