William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee read more
Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour, Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master missed it. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two read more
O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible, As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock on a steeple. -The Two Gentleman of Verona. Act ii. Sc. 1.
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. read more
No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
Grew faw with feasting there.
Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
read more
Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
Read o'er this
And after, this, and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.
Read o'er this
And after, this, and then to breakfast with
What appetite you have.
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell read more
Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself
Are much condemned to have an itching palm,
To sell and mart your offices for gold
To undeservers.
He who the sword of heaven will bear
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself read more
He who the sword of heaven will bear
Should be as holy as severe;
Pattern in himself to know,
Grace to stand, and virtue go;
More nor less to others paying
Than by self-offenses weighing.
Shame to him whose cruel striking
Kills for faults of his own liking.
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds read more
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls, Doing more murther in this loathsome world, Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell:.
He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.
He that keeps not crust nor crum
Weary of all, shall want some.
