A rascally yea-forsooth knave. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

A rascally yea-forsooth knave. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. read more

The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3.

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 3.

A Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

A Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.

What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. read more

What a taking was he in when your husband asked who was in the basket! -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 3.

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.

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.

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. read more

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5.

Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford read more

Death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all; all shall die. How a good yoke of bullocks at Stamford fair? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.