Maxioms by William Shakespeare
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
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Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act ii. Sc. 2.
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!
O, what may man within him hide,
Though angel on the outward side!
