Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot; read more

And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.

And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. read more

And do as adversaries do in law,— Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.

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.

He was a man Of an unbounded stomach. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

He was a man Of an unbounded stomach. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

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.

Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a read more

Fresh as a bridegroom; and his chin new reap'd Showed like a stubble-land at harvest-home; He was perfumed like a milliner, And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held A pouncet-box, which ever and anon He gave his nose and took 't away again. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.

To unpathed waters, undreamed shores. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.