William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
If he be so resolved,
I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may read more
If he be so resolved,
I can o'ersway him; for he loves to hear
That unicorns may be betrayed with trees
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes,
Lions with toils, and men with flatterers,
He says he does, being then most flattered.
Would he were fatter! But I fear him not.
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
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Would he were fatter! But I fear him not.
Yet if my name were liable to fear,
I do not know the man I should avoid
So soon as that spare Cassius.
Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
Old father antic the law. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 2.
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. -As You Like It. Act read more
The horn, the horn, the lusty horn Is not a thing to laugh to scorn. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 2.
I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. read more
I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4.
The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious.
The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious.
Therefore they thought it good for hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
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Therefore they thought it good for hear a play
And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,
Which bars a thousand harms and lengthens life.
The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise read more
The weariest and most loathed worldly life That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss.
Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow's bliss.
At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But read more
At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.
