William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, read more
This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,— This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England. -King Richard II. Act ii. Sc. 1.
My friends were poor but honest. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
My friends were poor but honest. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. read more
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 6.
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That in a spleen read more
Swift as a shadow, short as any dream; Brief as the lightning in the collied night, That in a spleen unfolds both heaven and earth, And ere a man hath power to say, Behold! The jaws of darkness do devour it up: So quick bright things come to confusion. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.
O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.
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.
Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier read more
Yet thanks I must you con
That you are thieves professed, that you work not
In holier shapes; for there is boundless theft
In limited professions.
Press not a falling man too far! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Press not a falling man too far! -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.
I wished your venison better--it was ill killed.
I wished your venison better--it was ill killed.
Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass
That every read more
Who knows himself a braggart,
Let him fear this; for it will come to pass
That every braggart shall be found an ass.
