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All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their read more
All the world 's a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard; Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. read more
This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. read more
I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends read more
From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, The place is dignified by the doer's deed. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act ii. Sc. 3.
'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.
He hath eaten me out of house and home. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
He hath eaten me out of house and home. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
That unlettered small-knowing soul. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
That unlettered small-knowing soul. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.
All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
All impediments in fancy's course Are motives of more fancy. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Even at the turning o' the tide. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
