Shakespeare

Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which read more

Nature herself was proud of his designs,
And joyed to wear the dressing of his lines!
Which were so richly spun, and woven so fit,
As since, she will vouchsafe no other wit.

Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That read more

Now you who rhyme, and I who rhyme,
Have not we sworn it, many a time,
That we no more our verse would scrawl,
For Shakespeare he had said it all!

If we wish to know the force of human genius we should read
Shakespeare. If we wish to see read more

If we wish to know the force of human genius we should read
Shakespeare. If we wish to see the insignificance of human
learning we may study his commentators.

Mellifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting Quill
Commandeth Mirth or Passion, was but Will.

Mellifluous Shakespeare, whose enchanting Quill
Commandeth Mirth or Passion, was but Will.

The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the read more

The stream of Time, which is continually washing the dissoluble
fabrics of other poets, passes without injury by the adamant of
Shakespeare.

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he read more

I remember, the players have often mentioned it as an honour to
Shakespeare, that in his writing (whatsoever he penned) he never
plotted out a line. My answer hath been, would he had blotted a
thousand.

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had read more

This figure that thou here seest put,
It was for gentle Shakespeare cut,
Wherein the graver had a strife
With Nature, to outdo the life:
Oh, could he but have drawn his wit
As well in brass, as he has hit
His face, the print would then surpass
All that was ever writ in brass;
But since he cannot, reader, look
Not on his picture, but his book.

Voltaire and Shakespeare! He was all
The other feigned to be.
The flippant Frenchman speaks: I weep;
read more

Voltaire and Shakespeare! He was all
The other feigned to be.
The flippant Frenchman speaks: I weep;
And Shakespeare weeps with me.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

Our myriad-minded Shakespeare.

When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls read more

When great poets sing,
Into the night new constellations spring,
With music in the air that dulls the craft
Of rhetoric. So when Shakespeare sang or laughed
The world with long, sweet Alpine echoes thrilled
Voiceless to scholars' tongues no muse had filled
With melody divine.