William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
A very gentle beast, and of a good conscience. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act v. Sc. 1.
For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
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For God's sake let us sit upon the ground
And tell sad stories of the death of kings!
How some have been deposed, some slain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed,
Some poisoned by their wives, some sleeping killed--
All murdered; for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court; and there the antic sits,
Scoffing his state and grinning at his pomp;
Allowing him a breath, a little scene,
To monarchize, be feared, and kill with looks;
Infusing him with self and vain conceit,
As if this flesh which walls about our life
Were brass impregnable; and humored thus,
Comes at the last, and with a little pin
Bores through his castle wall, and farewell king!
Cover your heads, and mock not flesh and blood
With solemn reverence, Throw away respect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but mistook me all this while.
I live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief,
Need friends. Subjected thus,
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently. For in the very read more
Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently. For in the very torrent, tempest, and as I may say, whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.
He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she read more
He will come to her in yellow stockings, and 'tis a color she
abhors, and cross-gartered, a fashion she detests; and he will
smile upon her, which will now be so unsuitable to her
disposition, being addicted to a melancholy as she is, that it
cannot but turn him into a notable contempt.
'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are read more
'T is beauty truly blent, whose red and white Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on: Lady, you are the cruell'st she alive If you will lead these graces to the grave And leave the world no copy. -Twelfth Night. Act i. Sc. 5.
We are oft to blame in this,
'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's visage
And pious read more
We are oft to blame in this,
'Tis too much proved, that with devotion's visage
And pious action we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
Oh, what a bitter thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
Oh, what a bitter thing it is to look into happiness through another man's eyes.
Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
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Merciful heaven,
Thou rather with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt
Splits the unwedgeable and gnarled oak
Than the soft myrtle; but man, proud man,
Dressed in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assured
His glassy essence--like an angry ape
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep; who, with our spleens,
would all themselves laugh mortal.
The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope.
The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope.
