Maxioms by William Shakespeare
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your read more
When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear.
What an alteration of honour has
Desperate want made!
What an alteration of honour has
Desperate want made!
This night I hold an old accustomed feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as read more
This night I hold an old accustomed feast,
Whereto I have invited many a guest,
Such as I love; and you among the store,
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.
It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most read more
It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound.
