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If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is read more
If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more read more
All lovers swear more performance than they are able, and yet reserve an ability that they never perform; vowing more than the perfection of ten, and discharging less than the tenth part of one. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 2.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
He that wants money, means, and content is without three good friends. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
A plague of all cowards, I say. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. -King Henry IV. Part read more
I had rather be a kitten and cry mew Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Past and to come seems best; things present worst. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.
Past and to come seems best; things present worst. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 3.
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. read more
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8.
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.
