There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good read more

There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It read more

And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see, quoth he, how the world wags. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou read more

Thou slave, thou wretch, thou coward! Thou little valiant, great in villany! Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! Thou Fortune's champion that dost never fight But when her humorous ladyship is by To teach thee safety. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite read more

Delivers in such apt and gracious words That aged ears play truant at his tales, And younger hearings are quite ravished; So sweet and voluble is his discourse. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1.

A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. read more

A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5.

Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

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.

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Bless thee, Bottom! bless thee! thou art translated. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iii. Sc. 1.