William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
My heart Is true as steel. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.
My heart Is true as steel. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Enough, with over-measure. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Enough, with over-measure. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.
No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.
No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign read more
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium And all that poets feign of bliss and joy! -King Henry VI. Part III. Act i. Sc. 2.
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; and read more
Lord, Lord, how this world is given to lying! I grant you I was down and out of breath; and so was he. But we rose both at an instant, and fought a long hour by Shrewsbury clock. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 4.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. read more
Blow, blow, thou winter wind! Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Thus ornament is but the guiled shore To a most dangerous sea. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
Some of us will smart for it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act v. Sc. 1.
Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
For, on their answer, will we set on them,
And read more
Hence, therefore, every leader to his charge;
For, on their answer, will we set on them,
And God befriend us as our cause is just!
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
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Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
