Maxioms by William Shakespeare
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us.
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us.
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
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O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring,
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,
Murder most foul, as in the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
Murder most foul, as in the best it is,
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural.
