William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in read more
When they him spy,
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye,
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort,
Rising and cawing at the gun's report,
Sever themselves and madly sweep the sky;
So at his sight away his fellows fly,
And at our stamp here o'er and o'er one falls;
He murder cries and help from Athens calls.
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more
By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.
O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping. -As You read more
O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy
worsted-stocking read more
A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud,
shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy
worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-faking, whoreson,
glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue;
one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in way of
good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave,
beggar, coward, pander, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch;
one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deny'st the
least syllable of thy addition.
It is religion to be thus forsworn,
For charity itself fulfills the law
And who can never read more
It is religion to be thus forsworn,
For charity itself fulfills the law
And who can never love from charity?
'T is but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. -King Henry VIII. Act read more
'T is but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 2.
Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!
Now good digestion wait on appetite,
And health on both!
Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand.
Against self-slaughter
There is a prohibition so divine
That cravens my weak hand.
