A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; read more

All plumed like estridges that with the wind Baited like eagles having lately bathed; Glittering in golden coats, like images; As full of spirit as the month of May, And gorgeous as the sun at midsummer. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

What point of morals, of manners, of economy, of philosophy, of
religion, of taste, of the conduct of life, read more

What point of morals, of manners, of economy, of philosophy, of
religion, of taste, of the conduct of life, has he not settled?
What mystery has he not signified his knowledge of? What office,
or function, or district of man's work, has he not remembered?
What king has he not taught state, as Talma taught Napoleon?
What maiden has not found him finer than her delicacy? What
lover has he not outloved? What sage has he not outseen? What
gentleman has he not instructed in the rudeness of his behavior?

For a good poet's made, as well as born,
And such wast thou! Look how the father's face
read more

For a good poet's made, as well as born,
And such wast thou! Look how the father's face
Lives in his issue; even so the race
Of Shakespeare's mind and manner brightly shine
In his well-turned and true-filed lines;
In each of which he seems to shake a lance,
As brandished at the eyes of ignorance.

More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

More matter for a May morning. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis read more

Few of the university pen plaies well, they smell too much of
that writer Ovid and that writer Metamorphosis and talk too much
of Prosperpina and Jupiter. Why, here's our fellow Shakespeare
puts them all down. Aye, and Ben Jonson too. O that B.J. is a
pestilent fellow, he brought up Horace giving poets a pill, but
our fellow, Shakespeare, hath given him a purge that made him
beray his credit.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse read more

And as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, He called them untaught knaves, unmannerly, To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse Betwixt the wind and his nobility. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

I thank you for your voices: thank you: Your most sweet voices. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3.

I thank you for your voices: thank you: Your most sweet voices. -Coriolanus. Act ii. Sc. 3.