William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.
A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. -Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5.
A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. -Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5.
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will read more
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
Teach not thy lip such scorn, for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Oft expectation fails and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and read more
Oft expectation fails and most oft there Where most it promises, and oft it hits Where hope is coldest and despair most fits.
Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continual motion;
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Therefore doth heaven divide
The state of man in divers functions,
Setting endeavor in continual motion;
To which is fixed as an aim or butt
Obedience; for so work the honeybees,
Creatures that by a rule in nature teach
The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
They have a king, and officers of sorts,
Where some like magistrates correct at home,
Others like merchants venture trade abroad,
Others like soldiers armed in their stings
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds,
Which pillage they with merry march bring home
To the tent-royal of their emperor,
Who, busied in his majesties, surveys
The singing masons building roofs of gold,
The civil citizens kneading up the honey,
The poor mechanic porters crowding in
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate,
The sad-eyed justice with his surly hum
Delivering o'er to executors pale
The lazy yawning drone.
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. (Merchant Of Venice)
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come. (Merchant Of Venice)
Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honor bright; to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, read more
Perseverance, dear my lord,
Keeps honor bright; to have done, is to hang
Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail
In monumental mock'ry.
