William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
No, truly, 'tis more than manners will;
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often read more
No, truly, 'tis more than manners will;
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.
To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell Signior
Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa and is read more
To leave frivolous circumstances, I pray you tell Signior
Lucentio that his father is come from Pisa and is here at the
door to speak with him.
There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.
There is gold for you. Sell me your good report.
(Portia:) A quarrel ho! already! What's the matter?
(Gratiano:) About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
read more
(Portia:) A quarrel ho! already! What's the matter?
(Gratiano:) About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife--'Love me, and leave me not.'
Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble read more
Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamped upon it.
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--
Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.
Nay, now you are too flat,
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant.
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more
And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado read more
Silence is the perfectest herald of joy: I were but little happy, if I could say how much. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
Truth is truth To the end of reckoning. -Measure for Measure. Act v. Sc. 1.
