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O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my read more
O sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse! how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down And steep my senses in forgetfulness? -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. 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.
What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends read more
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.
There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. read more
There are a sort of men whose visages Do cream and mantle like a standing pond. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had read more
Poor deer, quoth he, thou makest a testament As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more To that which had too much. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 1.
I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. read more
I were better to be eaten to death with a rust than to be scoured to nothing with perpetual motion. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 1.
