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This night methinks is but the daylight sick. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
This night methinks is but the daylight sick. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3.
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 3.
There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
There, at the moated grange, resides this dejected Mariana. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
I thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. read more
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, read more
If music be the food of love, play on; Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again! it had a dying fall: O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour! -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 1.
Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Out of this nettle, danger, we pluck this flower, safety. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 3.
