Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline
-- Act iii, Sc. 4
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline
-- Act iii, Sc. 4
Related:
- I have not slept one wink.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.... - It is no act of common passage, but
A strain of rareness.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act... - Thou art all the comfort
The gods will diet me with.
William Shakespeare (1564-1616), Cymbeline -- Act... - Some griefs are medicinable.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.... - The game is up.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act iii, Sc.... - Lest the bargain should catch cold and starve.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act i, Sc.... - No, 't is slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword,
whose tongue Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose... - Hath his bellyful of fighting.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Cymbeline -- Act ii, Sc.... - The boy hath sold him a bargain,--a goose.
-- William Shakespeare (1564-1616),
Love's Labour 's Lost -- Act iii, Sc....
