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The eftest way. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
The eftest way. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Every subject's duty is the king's; but every subject's soul is his own. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights read more
Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears! What ugly sights of death within mine eyes! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks, Ten thousand men that fishes gnawed upon, Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea: Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept, As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 4.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3.
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 3.
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.
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, With bated breath and whispering humbleness. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
Even in the afternoon of her best days. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7.
Even in the afternoon of her best days. -King Richard III. Act iii. Sc. 7.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace read more
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.
