William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
O Ceremony, show me but thy worth?
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else read more
O Ceremony, show me but thy worth?
What is thy soul of adoration?
Art thou aught else but place, degree, and form,
Creating awe and fear in other men?
All hell shall stir for this. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.
All hell shall stir for this. -King Henry V. Act v. Sc. 1.
If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is read more
If ladies be but young and fair, They have the gift to know it; and in his brain, Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit After a voyage, he hath strange places cramm'd With observation, the which he vents In mangled forms. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.
Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.
For when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend? -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. read more
For when did friendship take A breed for barren metal of his friend? -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.
Stand not upon the order of your going,
But go at once.
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more
Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be read more
Masters, it is proved already that you are little better than false knaves; and it will go near to be thought so shortly. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 2.
A man of my kidney. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.
A man of my kidney. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act iii. Sc. 5.
His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. read more
His nose was as sharp as a pen, and a' babbled of green fields. -King Henry V. Act ii. Sc. 3.
