William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
In time we hate that which we often fear.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
What if this cursed hand
Where thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough read more
What if this cursed hand
Where thicker than itself with brother's blood,
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens
To wash it white as snow?
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
What say you to a piece of beef and mustard?
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance: they are but beggars who can count their read more
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words, brags of his substance: they are but beggars who can count their worth.
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,
Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
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Come, night; come, Romeo; come, thou day in night;
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night
Whiter than new snow upon a raven's back.
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before read more
Yet marked O where the bolt of Cupid fell.
It fell upon a little western flower,
Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound,
And maidens call it love-in-idleness.
See, your guests approach.
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
See, your guests approach.
Address yourself to entertain them sprightly,
And let's be red with mirth.
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What read more
How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
