William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;
For who digs hills because they do aspire
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That were to blow at fire in hope to quench it;
For who digs hills because they do aspire
Throws down one mountain to cast up a higher.
Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.
Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.
O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
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O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring,
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?
A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
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A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.
O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?
O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?
Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.
That is the way to lay the city flat,
To bring the roof to the foundation,
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That is the way to lay the city flat,
To bring the roof to the foundation,
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges,
In heaps and piles of ruin.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks:
Small have read more
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, read more
What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!
