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.

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it read more

He hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk ink. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

That unlettered small-knowing soul. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

That unlettered small-knowing soul. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 2.

To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 2.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Every why hath a wherefore. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 2.

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed read more

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

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.

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or read more

To gild refined gold, to paint the lily, To throw a perfume on the violet, To smooth the ice, or add another hue Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. -King John. Act iv. Sc. 2.

'T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in read more

'T is better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perked up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 3.