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The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.
For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
For there was never yet philosopher That could endure the toothache patiently. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
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.
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.
Is she not passing fair? -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 4.
Is she not passing fair? -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iv. Sc. 4.
A poor lone woman. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
A poor lone woman. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
