William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
read more
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.
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.
Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.
But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more
But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
This is a devil, and no monster. I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.
This is a devil, and no monster. I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.
Did ever raven sing so like a lark
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
Did ever raven sing so like a lark
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
Besides, you know
Prosperity's the very bond of love,
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
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Besides, you know
Prosperity's the very bond of love,
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together
Affliction alters.
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.
A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.
A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.
You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that read more
You souls of geese,
That bear the shapes of men, how have you run
From slaves that apes would men!
