The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations Preface

With blue of heaven’s own tinct.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 2, sc. 2, l. 14
On her left breast
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops
I’ the bottom of a cowslip.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 2, sc. 2, l. 37
Hark! hark! the lark at heaven’s gate sings,
And Phoebus ’gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes:
With everything that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise!
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 2, sc. 3, l. [22]
Is there no way for men to be, but women
Must be half-workers?
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 2, sc. 5, l. 1
I thought her
As chaste as unsunned snow.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 2, sc. 5, l. 12
The natural bravery of your isle, which stands
As Neptune’s park, ribbed and paled in
With rocks unscalable, and roaring waters.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 3, sc. 1, l. 18
O, for a horse with wings!
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 3, sc. 2, l. [49]
What should we speak of
When we are old as you? when we shall hear
The rain and wind beat dark December, how,
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse
The freezing hours away? We have seen nothing.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 3, sc. 3, l. 35
Some jay of Italy,
Whose mother was her painting, hath betrayed him:
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion.
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 3, sc. 4, l. [51]
Hath Britain all the sun that shines?
‘Cymbeline’ (1609-10) act 3, sc. 4, l. [139]
Weariness