William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.
If it be true that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true that a good
play needs no epilogue.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving read more
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
Bleed, bleed, poor Country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not check thee; read more
Bleed, bleed, poor Country!
Great tyranny, lay thou thy basis sure,
For goodness dare not check thee; wear thou thy wrongs,
The title is affeered!
(Olivia:) What's a drunken man like, fool?
(Clown:) Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught read more
(Olivia:) What's a drunken man like, fool?
(Clown:) Like a drowned man, a fool, and a madman. One draught
above heat makes him a fool, the seconds mads him, and a third
drowns him.
His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all read more
His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder.
Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
Better three hours too soon than a minute too late.
More matter for a May morning.
More matter for a May morning.
The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious read more
The gates of monarchs
Are arched so high that giants may jet through
And keep their impious turbans on without
Good morrow to the sun.
Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
read more
Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
The best I had, a princess wrought it me--
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,
Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?'
Did ever raven sing so like a lark
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
Did ever raven sing so like a lark
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise?
