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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.
Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it and not break my troth. -Love's Labour 's read more
Or, having sworn too hard a keeping oath, Study to break it and not break my troth. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
It would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. -King Henry IV. read more
It would be argument for a week, laughter for a month, and a good jest for ever. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
For courage mounteth with occasion. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.
For courage mounteth with occasion. -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Speak me fair in death. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Speak me fair in death. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. -Love's Labour 's Lost. read more
A child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
