William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease;
Thy turfy read more
Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas
Of wheat, rye, barley, fetches, oats, and pease;
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep,
And flat meads thatched with stover, them to keep;
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims,
Which spongy April at thy hest betrims
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy broom groves,
Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves,
Being lasslorn; thy pole-clipt vineyard;
And thy sea-marge, sterile and rocky-hard,
Where thou thyself dost air--the queen o' th' sky,
Whose wat-ry arch and messenger am I,
Bids thee leave these, and with her sovereign grace,
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place,
To come and sport: her peacocks fly amain.
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain.
A very ancient and fish-like smell. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.
A very ancient and fish-like smell. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.
We that are in the vaward of our youth. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
We that are in the vaward of our youth. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.
A merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal. -Love's Labour 's Lost. read more
A merrier man, Within the limit of becoming mirth, I never spent an hour's talk withal. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act ii. Sc. 1.
A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in the wit is read more
A good old man, sir; he will be talking: as they say, When the age is in the wit is out. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 5.
I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have
served him from the read more
I am an ass indeed; you may prove it by my long ears. I have
served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have
nothing at his hands for my service but blows. When I am cold,
he heats me with beating; when I am warm, he cools me with
beating.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.
Whip me such honest knaves!
Whip me such honest knaves!
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Deeper than did ever plummet sound I 'll drown my book. -The Tempest. Act v. Sc. 1.
Thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock read more
Thus we play the fools with the time, and the spirits of the wise sit in the clouds and mock us. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act ii. Sc. 2.
