And he that stands upon a slippery place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. -King John. read more

And he that stands upon a slippery place Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Brain him with his lady's fan. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Brain him with his lady's fan. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

But Shakespeare's magic could not copied be;
Within that circle none durst walk but he.

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.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. -King John. Act iii. read more

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! -Much Ado read more

O, what men dare do! what men may do! what men daily do, not knowing what they do! -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in read more

Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night, And would have told him half his Troy was burnt. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 1.

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.

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. read more

Affliction may one day smile again; and till then, sit thee down, sorrow! -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.