Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. read more

Then let thy love be younger than thyself, Or thy affection cannot hold the bent. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.

Full bravely hast thou fleshed Thy maiden sword. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

Full bravely hast thou fleshed Thy maiden sword. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.

A high hope for a low heaven. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

A high hope for a low heaven. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge read more

O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 2.

I will show myself highly fed and lowly taught. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 2.

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there read more

I will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. He hates our sacred nation, and he rails, Even there where merchants most do congregate. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.