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Maxioms by William Shakespeare

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What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when read more

What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state? O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free
Art more engaged!

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Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore again? -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

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Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.

Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.

by William Shakespeare Found in: Mercy Quotes,
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Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies,
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms
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Now to the Goths, as swift as swallow flies,
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms
And secretly to greet the empress's friends.

by William Shakespeare Found in: Swallows Quotes,
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Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

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