William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win by fearing to attempt.
Death my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't
That sure th' have read more
Death my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't
That sure th' have worn out Christendom.
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand read more
Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.
A snapper-up of unconsidered trifles. -The Winter's Tale. Act iv. Sc. 3.
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant!
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true read more
You draw me, you hard-hearted adamant!
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart
Is true as steel.
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man holds honor far more precious dear than life.
Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was for read more
Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly
From so divine a temple to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.
The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
The seeming truth which cunning times put on To entrap the wisest. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop read more
Meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scattered, to make up a show.
I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I
know most faults.
I will chide no breather in the world but myself, against whom I
know most faults.
