“Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich; It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living Is ’mongst the dead, and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitch’d field.” Timon of Athens, Act I, Scene 2. “Dream on thy cousins smothered in the Tower. Let us be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death. Thy nephews’ souls bid thee despair and die.” Richard III, Act V, Scene 3. “Foul deeds will rise, Though all the earth o’erwhelm them, to men’s eyes.” Hamlet, Act I, Scene 2. “He hath ribbons of an the colours i’ the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him by the gross: inkles, caddisses, cambrics, lawns.” The Winter's Tale, Act IV, Scene 4. “I saw her once Hop forty paces through the public street, And having lost her breath, she spoke and panted, That she did make defect perfection, And breathless pour breath forth.” Antony and Cleopatra, Act II, Scene 2. “My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault’s Bloody; ’tis necessary he should die: Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy.” Timon of Athens, Act III, Scene 5. “Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That, in the course of justice, none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy,— And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy.” The Merchant of Venice, Act IV, Scene 1. “’Tis an unseasoned courtier. Good my lord, Advise him.” All's Well That Ends Well, Act I, Scene 1.
“There shall be in England seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny. The three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops, and I will make it felony to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And when I am king, as king I will be—” “God save your Majesty!” “I thank you, good people.—There shall be no money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers and worship me their lord.” “The first thing we do, let’s kill all the lawyers.” “Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? That parchment, being scribbled o’er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings, but I say, ’tis the beeswax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since.” Henry VI, Part 2.
All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms; And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.