William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
What doth gravity out of his bed at midnight? -King Henry IV. Part I. Act ii. Sc. 4.
No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came read more
No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.
What wound did ever heal but my degrees?
What wound did ever heal but my degrees?
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks:
Small have read more
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-searched with saucy looks:
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more
How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in
erecting a grammar school: and whereas, before, our read more
Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in
erecting a grammar school: and whereas, before, our forefathers
had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused
printing to be used, and, contrary to the king, his crown and
dignity, thou hast built a paper mill.
My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest,
Out of hope of all but my share of read more
My cake is dough, but I'll in among the rest,
Out of hope of all but my share of the feast.
O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, read more
O Cromwell, Cromwell,
Had I but served my God with half the zeal
I served my king, he would not in mine age
Have left me naked to mine enemies.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
So full of artless jealousy is guilt
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.
