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For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but read more
For it so falls out That what we have we prize not to the worth Whiles we enjoy it, but being lack'd and lost, Why, then we rack the value; then we find The virtue that possession would not show us Whiles it was ours. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! -King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! -King Henry VI. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
God made him, and therefore let him pass for a man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
If my gossip Report be an honest woman of her word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 1.
What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
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.
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Good orators, when they are out, they will spit. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Good orators, when they are out, they will spit. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.
