William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
What work's, my countrymen, in hand? Where go you
With bats and clubs? The matter? Speak, I pray you.
Here, here, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he read more
Here, here, and everywhere, he leaves and takes,
Dexterity so obeying appetite
That what he will he does, and does so much
That proof is called impossibility.
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.
If thou art rich, thou'rt poor,
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st read more
If thou art rich, thou'rt poor,
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee.
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. read more
The world is grown so bad, That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 3.
Must I hold a candle to my shames? -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
Must I hold a candle to my shames? -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life, read more
The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life, Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving-delicate and full of life Into the eye and prospect of his soul. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
read more
Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness married to thy stronger state
Makes with me thy strength to communicate.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat it read more
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy!
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But O, what damned minutes tells he o'er
Who dotes, yet doubts--suspects, yet strongly loves!
These violent delights have violent ends.
These violent delights have violent ends.
