Shakespeare

An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him read more

An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye: Give him a little earth for charity! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. -King Henry VIII. read more

He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And then to breakfast with What appetite you have. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste read more

I have touched the highest point of all my greatness; And from that full meridian of my glory I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Press not a falling man too far! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Press not a falling man too far! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender read more

Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hopes; to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him; The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory, But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me and now has left me, Weary and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye: I feel my heart new opened. O, how wretched Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours! There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have: And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

No man's pie is freed From his ambitious finger. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.

Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. read more

Anger is like A full-hot horse, who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. -King Henry VIII. Act i. Sc. 1.