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If I say that Shakespeare is the greatest of intellects, I have
said all concerning him. But there is read more
If I say that Shakespeare is the greatest of intellects, I have
said all concerning him. But there is more in Shakespeare's
intellect than we have yet seen. It is what I call an
unconscious intellect; there is more virtue in it that he himself
is aware of.
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 5.
Thy wish was father, Harry, to that thought. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 5.
Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing read more
Full fathom five thy father lies; Of his bones are coral made; Those are pearls that were his eyes: Nothing of him that doth fade But doth suffer a sea-change Into something rich and strange. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, read more
Had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. -Coriolanus. Act i. Sc. 3.
Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn? -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.
Shall I not take mine ease in mine inn? -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iii. Sc. 3.
In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
In the twinkling of an eye. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To read more
Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever,— One foot in sea and one on shore, To one thing constant never. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 3.
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and read more
There, Shakespeare, on whose forehead climb
The crowns o' the world. Oh, eyes sublime
With tears and laughter for all time.
When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls read more
When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls the craft
Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed
The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled
Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled
With melody divine.
