William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the read more
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs, Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword, The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Become them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold.
It is the purpose that makes strong the vow; But vows to every purpose must not hold.
My long sickness
Of health and living now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things.
My long sickness
Of health and living now begins to mend,
And nothing brings me all things.
And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace read more
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more, Or close the wall up with our English dead! In peace there 's nothing so becomes a man As modest stillness and humility; But when the blast of war blows in our ears, Then imitate the action of the tiger: Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, read more
The young gentleman, according to Fates and Destinies and such odd sayings, the Sisters Three and such branches of learning, is indeed deceased; or, as you would say in plain terms, gone to heaven. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Nay, do not think I flatter.
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue read more
Nay, do not think I flatter.
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
No, let the candied tongue like absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning.
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
read more
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.
But something may be done that we will not;
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When read more
But something may be done that we will not;
And sometimes we are devils to ourselves
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers,
Presuming on their changeful potency.
