William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Why, now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
Why, now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And read more
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,
And so he'll die; and rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him.
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
There is no vice so simple but assumes
Some mark of virtue on his outward parts.
Time is the justice that examines all offenders.
Time is the justice that examines all offenders.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
From the still-vexed Bermoothes. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
Ram thou fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.
Ram thou fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.
(Pedro:) In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
(Beatrice:) Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it read more
(Pedro:) In faith, lady, you have a merry heart.
(Beatrice:) Yea, my lord; I thank it, poor fool, it keeps on the
windy side of care.
Come, let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me. All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's read more
Come, let's have one other gaudy night. Call to me. All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more. Let's mock the midnight bell.
All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed read more
All things that are, Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. How like a younker or a prodigal The scarfed bark puts from her native bay, Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind! How like the prodigal doth she return, With over-weather'd ribs and ragged sails, Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind! -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,
And welcome home again discarded faith.
