William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
It had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes read more
It had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank of violets,
Stealing and giving odor.
This casket threatens; men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages.
A golden mind read more
This casket threatens; men that hazard all
Do it in hope of fair advantages.
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross;
I'll then nor give nor hazard aught for lead.
I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
read more
I tell you that which you yourselves do know,
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor poor dumb mouths,
And bid them speak for me.
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will read more
Hold, there is forty ducats. Let me have
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear
As will disperse itself through all the veins
That the life-weary taker may fall dead,
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath
As violently as hasty powder fired
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.
Base is the slave that pays.
Base is the slave that pays.
Unless experience be a jewel. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Unless experience be a jewel. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever read more
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news
Hath but a losing office, and his tongue
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
Rememb'red tolling a departing friend.
It must be so, for miracles are ceased
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How read more
It must be so, for miracles are ceased
And therefore we must needs admit the means
How things are perfected.
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of read more
Some say that ever 'gainst that season comes
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated,
The bird of dawning singeth all night long,
And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad,
The nights are wholesome, then no planets strike,
No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm.
So hallowed and so gracious is that time.
