William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
(Salerio:) . . . if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her
word.
(Solanio:) I would read more
(Salerio:) . . . if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her
word.
(Solanio:) I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
knapped ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the
death of a third husband.
Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how read more
Tell me where is fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head?
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.
It is engend'red in the eyes,
With gazing fed, and fancy dies
In the cradle where it lies.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.
Some guard these traitors to the block of death,
Treason's true bed and yielder up of breath.
In King Cambyses' vein. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
In King Cambyses' vein. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
What, man! defy the Devil: consider, he is an enemy to mankind. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
What, man! defy the Devil: consider, he is an enemy to mankind. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.
Come, my coach! Good night, ladies, good night. Sweet ladies,
good night, good night.
Come, my coach! Good night, ladies, good night. Sweet ladies,
good night, good night.
Ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to sicken and decay
It useth an enforced ceremony.
read more
Ever note, Lucilius,
When love begins to sicken and decay
It useth an enforced ceremony.
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith;
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand,
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle;
But when they should endure the bloody spur,
They fall their crests, and like deceitful jades
Sink in the trial.
Give every man your ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
Give every man your ear, but few thy voice. Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment.
From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
read more
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.
