William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
read more
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,
I would fain die a dry death. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.
I would fain die a dry death. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 1.
Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist. -The read more
Come unto these yellow sands, And then take hands: Courtsied when you have, and kiss'd The wild waves whist. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when read more
What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state? O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free
Art more engaged!
Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to
all others because you were born in it.
Patriotism is your conviction that this country is superior to
all others because you were born in it.
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?
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
A plague upon it when thieves cannot be true one to another!
The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
The venom clamours of a jealous woman poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth.
So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
read more
So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will--
read more
I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will--
My will enkindled my by mine and ears
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment.
