William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case read more
Though those that are betrayed
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor
Stands in worse case of woe.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
The selfsame heaven That frowns on me looks sadly upon him. -King Richard III. Act v. Sc. 3.
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
'Tis gold
Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
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'Tis gold
Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief,
Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.
Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay,
sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay,
sweet hay, hath no fellow.
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
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Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 1.
A wretched soul, bruised with adversity. -The Comedy of Errors. Act ii. Sc. 1.
