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They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more
They are as sick that surfeit with too much, as they that starve with nothing. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.
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.
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on read more
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If ever you have look'd on better days, If ever been where bells have knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. read more
Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1.
Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
With foreheads villanous low. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.
With foreheads villanous low. -The Tempest. Act iv. Sc. 1.
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.
There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all things. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.
A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.
A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.
