Maxioms by William Shakespeare
Leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting read more
Leave her to Heaven,
And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge,
To prick and sting her.
The silver livery of advised age.
The silver livery of advised age.
What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants read more
What are these,
So withered and so wild in their attire
That took not like th' inhabitants o' th' earth
And yet are on't?
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Diseased Nature oftentimes breaks forth In strange eruptions. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 1.
