William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.
Let's carve him as a dish fit for the gods,
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds.
Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.
Bravest at the last,
She levelled at our purposes, and being royal,
Took her own way.
A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
A Daniel come to judgment! yea, a Daniel! -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Reflection is the business of man; a sense of his state is his first duty: but who remembereth himself in read more
Reflection is the business of man; a sense of his state is his first duty: but who remembereth himself in joy? Is it not in mercy then that sorrow is allotted unto us?
He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his
own trumpet, his own chronicle; and read more
He that is proud eats up himself. Pride is his own glass, his
own trumpet, his own chronicle; and whatever praises itself but
in the deed, devours the deed in the praise.
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, read more
This was the most unkindest cut of all;
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab,
Ingratitude, more strong than traitor's arms,
Quite vanquished him. Then burst his mighty heart;
And in his mantle muffling up his face,
Even at the base of Pompey's statue
(Which all the while ran blood) great Caesar fell.
What, shall one of us,
That struck for the foremost man of all this world
But for read more
What, shall one of us,
That struck for the foremost man of all this world
But for supporting robbers--shall we now
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes,
And sell the mighty space of our large honors
For so much trash as may be grasped thus?
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--
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
read more
As far as could ken thy chalky cliffs,
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
And when the dusky sky began to rob
My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
I took a costly jewel from my neck,
A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
And threw it toward thy land.
'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.
