A man can die but once. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A man can die but once. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. read more

Except I be by Sylvia in the night, There is no music in the nightingale. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act iii. Sc. 1.

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed read more

All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.

I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the read more

I am a tainted wether of the flock, Meetest for death: the weakest kind of fruit Drops earliest to the ground. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. -King Henry VIII. read more

He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An read more

My lungs began to crow like chanticleer, That fools should be so deep-contemplative; And I did laugh sans intermission An hour by his dial. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

So curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.

So curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion soever. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iv. Sc. 2.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like read more

I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus And witch the world with noble horsemanship. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.