Dictynna, goodman Dull. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Dictynna, goodman Dull. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Why, then the world 's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. read more

Why, then the world 's mine oyster, Which I with sword will open. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2.

He dies, and makes no sign. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3.

He dies, and makes no sign. -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Light seeking light doth light of light beguile. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

Light seeking light doth light of light beguile. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. read more

Tell me where is fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourished? Reply, reply. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. read more

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4.

When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. -King John. Act iii. Sc. read more

When Fortune means to men most good, She looks upon them with a threatening eye. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more

This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.

The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the read more

The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of
Shakespeare.