William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful read more
'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Is there no respect of place, persons, nor time in you? -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.
Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,
read more
Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,
And there is such confusion in my powers
As, after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where every something being blent together
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy
Expressed and not expressed.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
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.
A murderer and a villain,
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent read more
A murderer and a villain,
A slave that is not twentieth part the tithe
Of your precedent lord, a vice of kings,
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule,
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole
And put it in his pocket--
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.
Therefore they thought it good for hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
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Therefore they thought it good for hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by read more
Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.
There is a divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance or death.
There is a divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance or death.
