Maxioms by William Shakespeare
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set read more
Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on,—how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour; what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it? no. Doth he hear it? no. 'T is insensible, then? yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the living? no. Why? detraction will not suffer it. Therefore I 'll none of it. Honour is a mere scutcheon. And so ends my catechism. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act v. Sc. 1.
All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit read more
All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
Go to your bosom: Knock there, and ask your heart what it doth know
Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking.
I shall be out of heart shortly, read more
Well, I'll repent, and that suddenly, while I am in some liking.
I shall be out of heart shortly, and then I shall have no
strength to repent.
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
Then my dial goes not true; I look this lark for a bunting.
