But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. read more

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

Fill all thy bones with aches. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

Fill all thy bones with aches. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words,— Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, read more

Then shall our names, Familiar in his mouth as household words,— Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter, Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,— Be in their flowing cups freshly remembered. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

He is of a very melancholy disposition. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

He is of a very melancholy disposition. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? read more

Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humour? No, the world must be peopled. When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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.

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more

Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.

For courage mounteth with occasion. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

For courage mounteth with occasion. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. read more

An habitation giddy and unsure Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.