O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow read more

O Proserpina, For the flowers now, that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phœbus in his strength,—a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. -King John. Act iii. read more

Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 4.

His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for 's read more

His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for 's power to thunder. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. read more

'T is my vocation, Hal; 't is no sin for a man to labour in his vocation. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.

O for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention! -King Henry V. Prologue.

This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.

This Booke
When Brasse and Marble fade, shall make thee looke
Fresh to all Ages.

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.

In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. read more

In the posteriors of this day, which the rude multitude call the afternoon. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act v. Sc. 1.

Whose words all ears took captive. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.

Whose words all ears took captive. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act v. Sc. 3.