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Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 3.
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 3.
Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. read more
Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd But to fine issues, nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use. -Measure for Measure. Act i. Sc. 1.
Mine host of the Garter. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.
Mine host of the Garter. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.
I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You read more
I must have liberty Withal, as large a charter as the wind, To blow on whom I please. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
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.
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all read more
As sweet and musical As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair; And when Love speaks, the voice of all the gods Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
Nor sequent centuries could hit
Orbit and sum of Shakespeare's wit.
All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may. -The Merry read more
All his successors gone before him have done 't; and all his ancestors that come after him may. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 1.
A thing devised by the enemy. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
A thing devised by the enemy. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
