William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will.
Kings are earth's gods; in vice their law's their will.
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should read more
I remember a mass of things, but nothing distinctly; a quarrel,
but nothing wherefore. O God, that men should put an enemy in
their mouths to steal away their brains! that we should with
joy, pleasance, revel, and applause transform ourselves into
beasts!
'Tis gold
Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
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'Tis gold
Which buys admittance--oft it doth--yea, and makes
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up
This deer to th' stand o' th' stealer: and 'tis gold
Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief,
Nay, sometimes hangs both thief and true man.
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
What, man, defy the devil? Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
What, man, defy the devil? Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.
Love is a spirit of all compact of fire.
Love is a spirit of all compact of fire.
