William Shakespeare

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It read more

The quality of mercy is not strain'd, It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath. It is twice blest: It blesseth him that gives and him that takes. 'T is mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown; His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's, When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, Though justice be thy plea, consider this, That in the course of justice none of us Should see salvation: we do pray for mercy; And that same prayer doth teach us all to render The deeds of mercy. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Talks as familiarly of roaring lions As maids of thirteen do of puppy-dogs! -King John. Act ii. Sc. 1.

Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in live. Now does he feel his title
Hang read more

Those he commands move only in command,
Nothing in live. Now does he feel his title
Hang loose about him, like a giant's robe
Upon a dwarfish thief.

The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
read more

The more thou dam'st it up, the more it burns.
The current that with gentle murmur glides,
Thou know'st, being stopped, impatiently doth rage;
But when his fair course is not hindered,
He makes sweet music with th' enameled stones,
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge,
He overtaketh in his pilgrimage.
And so by many winding nooks he strays
With willing sport to the wild ocean.
Then let me go and hinder not my course.
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream
And make a pastime of each weary step,
Till the last step have brought me to my love;
And there I'll rest, as after much turmoil
A blessed soul doth in Elysium.

Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will;
The very devils read more

Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will;
The very devils cannot plague them better.