William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
That it may please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,
read more
That it may please you leave these sad designs
To him that hath most cause to be a mourner,
And presently repair to Crosby House;
Where--after I have solemnly interred
At Chertsey monast'ry with noble king--
And wet his grave with my repentant tears--
I will with all expedient duty see you.
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.rn
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff.rn
A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I was now a coward on instinct. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
I was now a coward on instinct. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 1.
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire.
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Of read more
Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire.
Threaten the threat'ner, and outface the brow
Of bragging horror. So shall inferior eyes,
That borrow their behaviors from the great,
Grow great by your example and put on
The dauntless spirit of resolution.
Friends, Romans countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
Friends, Romans countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.
I never saw so many shocking bad hats in my life.
I never saw so many shocking bad hats in my life.
What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
And what have kings that privates have read more
What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?
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.
