William Shakespeare

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by read more

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection! -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. read more

How many things by season season'd are To their right praise and true perfection! -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.

No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes. What king read more

No might nor greatness in mortality
Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny
The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong
Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue?

Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honored love,
I rather read more

Were't not affection chains thy tender days
To the sweet glances of thy honored love,
I rather would entreat thy company
To see the wonders of the world abroad
Than, living dully sluggardized at home,
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness.