William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to read more
The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Master, master, old news! And such news as you never heard of!
Master, master, old news! And such news as you never heard of!
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk.
When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk.
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within a read more
When last the young Orlando parted from you,
He left a promise to return again
Within a hour; and pacing through the forest,
Chewing the food of sweet and bitter fancy,
Lo, what befell!
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. read more
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8.
And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! -As You read more
And He that doth the ravens feed, Yea, providently caters for the sparrow, Be comfort to my age! -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 3.
What! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
What! wouldst thou have a serpent sting thee twice? -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Speak low if you speak love. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Speak low if you speak love. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act ii. Sc. 1.
(Celia:) Here come Monsieur Le Beau.
(Rosalind:) With his mouth full of news.
(Celia:) Which he will read more
(Celia:) Here come Monsieur Le Beau.
(Rosalind:) With his mouth full of news.
(Celia:) Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
(Rosalind:) Then shall we be news-crammed.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
read more
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
