William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
The houses he makes last till doomsday.
The houses he makes last till doomsday.
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act read more
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills, And make the babbling gossip of the air Cry out. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
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My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou seest is but a clod
And module of confounded royalty.
Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an
ordinary man has.
Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian or an
ordinary man has.
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them read more
He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair-spoken, and persuading; Lofty and sour to them that loved him not, But to those men that sought him sweet as summer. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.
And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what read more
Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindess shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance.
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.
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.
I have an exposition of sleep come upon me. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.
