Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.

Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. 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.

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. -King Richard III. read more

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings; Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 2.

The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but I think now 't is not read more

The world was very guilty of such a ballad some three ages since; but I think now 't is not to be found. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.

An honest exceeding poor man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

An honest exceeding poor man. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.

The why is plain as way to parish church. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

The why is plain as way to parish church. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. -Twelfth read more

An you had any eye behind you, you might see more detraction at your heels than fortunes before you. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5.

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are read more

If there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we are married and have more occasion to know one another: I hope, upon familiarity will grow more contempt. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful read more

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.