William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for 's read more
His nature is too noble for the world: He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, Or Jove for 's power to thunder. -Coriolanus. Act iii. Sc. 1.
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.
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass
And entertain a score or two of tailors
To study read more
I'll be at charges for a looking-glass
And entertain a score or two of tailors
To study fashions to adorn my body:
Since I am crept in favor with myself,
I will maintain it with some little cost.
Here, here, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he read more
Here, here, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does, and does so much
That proof is called impossibility.
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
So smooth he daubed his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted--
I read more
So smooth he daubed his vice with show of virtue
That, his apparent open guilt omitted--
I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife--
He lived from all attainder of suspects.
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds read more
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell:.
Tongues I'll hang on every tree
That shall civil sayings show. . . .
Tongues I'll hang on every tree
That shall civil sayings show. . . .
Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.
Tush! tush! fear boys with bugs. -The Taming of the Shrew. Act i. Sc. 2.
