When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls read more

When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls the craft
Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed
The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled
Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled
With melody divine.

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he read more

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never
plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a
thousand.

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.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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.

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.

A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act read more

A plague of sighing and grief! It blows a man up like a bladder. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.