William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time
So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
This sickness doth infect The very life-blood of our enterprise. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act iv. Sc. 1.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
So shaken as we are, so wan with care. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 1.
(Celia:) Here come Monsieur Le Beau.
(Rosalind:) With his mouth full of news.
(Celia:) Which he will read more
(Celia:) Here come Monsieur Le Beau.
(Rosalind:) With his mouth full of news.
(Celia:) Which he will put on us as pigeons feed their young.
(Rosalind:) Then shall we be news-crammed.
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And read more
But now will canker sorrow eat my bud
And chase the native beauty from his cheek,
And he will look as hollow as a ghost,
As dim and meagre as an ague's fit,
And so he'll die; and rising so again,
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven
I shall not know him.
She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
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She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
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For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th' oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th' unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin?
If it be honor in your wars to seem
The same you are not,--which, for your best ends,
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If it be honor in your wars to seem
The same you are not,--which, for your best ends,
You adopt your policy--how is it less or worse,
That it shall hold companionship in peace
With honour, as in war: since that to both
It stands in like request?
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows. -The Tempest. Act ii. Sc. 2.
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. read more
A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench. -King Henry VI. Part III. Act iv. Sc. 8.
