William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him;
Yet nor the lays of birds, not the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hunger. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty.
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty.
Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
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Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's read more
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
The houses he makes last till doomsday.
The houses he makes last till doomsday.
O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
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O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level. and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea!
Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's read more
Give me that man
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart,
As I do thee.
I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
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I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground,
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project.
