When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose. For whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
He's of the colour of the nutmeg. And of the heat of the ginger.... he is pure air and fire; and the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
But there is no such man; for, brother, men Can counsel and speak comfort to that grief Which they themselves not feel;… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you-trippingly on the tongue; but if you mouth it, as many… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize As the dead… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmations strong as proofs of holy writ. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory, this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it?… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ay, but hearken, sir; though the chameleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that am nourished by my victuals,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I durst not laugh for fear of opening my lips and receiving the bad air. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Thou know'st the first time that we smell the air we wawl and cry. When we are born we cry, that we… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair, Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
On a day - alack the day! - Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair, Be absent hence! — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Promising is the very air o' th' time; it opens the eyes of expectation. Performance is ever duller for his act; and,… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
This most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o-erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I told you, sir, they were red-hot with drinking; so full of valor that they smote the air, for breathing in their… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect, For slander's mark was ever yet the fair; The ornament of beauty is… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Promising is the very air o' the time; it opens the eyes of expectation. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy, Which is as… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, Pale in her anger washes all the air, That rheumatic diseases do abound; And through… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, Nor age so eat up my invention, Nor fortune made such havoc of my… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Divers philosophers hold that the lips is parcel of the mouth. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs; Being purg'd, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
I, measuring his affections by my own, Which then most sought where most might not be found, Being one too many by my weary… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Ask God for temp'rance. That's th' appliance only Which your disease requires. — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
“Thou hast no figures nor no fantasies Which busy care draws in the brains of men; Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. Julius Caesar (2.1.248-251)” — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
Have you not heard it said full oft, A woman's nay doth stand for naught? — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
