William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
When shall we three meet again
In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
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.
What think you, if he were conveyed to bed,
Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
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What think you, if he were conveyed to bed,
Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his fingers,
A most delicious banquet by his bed,
And brave attendants near him when he wakes,
Would not the beggar then forget himself?
Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
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Then get thee gone and dig my grave thyself,
And bid the merry bells ring to thine ear
That thou are crowned, not that I am dead.
There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good read more
There 's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: If the ill spirit have so fair a house, Good things will strive to dwell with 't. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
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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.
Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging read more
Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred.
O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, read more
O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!
Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
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Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
