The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree. -The Merchant of read more

The brain may devise laws for the blood, but a hot temper leaps o'er a cold decree. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

What seest thou else In the dark backward and abysm of time? -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

The common curse of mankind,—folly and ignorance. -Troilus and Cressida. Act ii. Sc. 3.

The common curse of mankind,—folly and ignorance. -Troilus and Cressida. Act ii. Sc. 3.

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

If I do, fillip me with a three-man beetle. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky read more

Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.

'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.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed. -King Richard III. Act iv. Sc. 4.

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To read more

Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.

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.