William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful.
When thou cam'st first,
Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me
Water with read more
When thou cam'st first,
Thou strok'st me and made much of me; wouldst give me
Water with berries in't; and teach me how
To name the bigger light, and how the less,
That burn by day and night; and then I loved thee
And showed thee all the qualities o' th' isle,
The fresh springs, brine-pits, barren place and fertile.
He is well paid that is well satisfied,
And I delivering you am satisfied,
And therein do read more
He is well paid that is well satisfied,
And I delivering you am satisfied,
And therein do account myself well paid;
My mind was never yet more mercenary.
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? . . . And the
creature run from the read more
Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? . . . And the
creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great
image of authority--a dog's obeyed in office.
Simply the thing I am shall make me live.
Simply the thing I am shall make me live.
Custom will reconcile people to any atrocity; and fashion will
drive them to acquire any custom.
Custom will reconcile people to any atrocity; and fashion will
drive them to acquire any custom.
Had doting Priam checked his son's desire,
Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire.
Had doting Priam checked his son's desire,
Troy had been bright with fame, and not with fire.
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To read more
O God! methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials, quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes, how they run--
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live;
When this is known, then to divide the times--
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many months ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this!
