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The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
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.
Exceedingly well read. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Exceedingly well read. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Who wooed in haste, and means to wed at leisure. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It read more
And the imperial votaress passed on, In maiden meditation, fancy-free. Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it love-in-idleness. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.
I could have better spared a better man. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.
I could have better spared a better man. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.
A Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
A Corinthian, a lad of mettle, a good boy. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance read more
The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado read more
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
