William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am read more
These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.
O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. -Measure read more
O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. -Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.
I wished your venison better--it was ill killed.
I wished your venison better--it was ill killed.
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall read more
This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on
the coals for money.
These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, read more
These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. read more
I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated To closeness and the bettering of my mind. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.
Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at read more
Hark, hark, the lark at heaven's gate sings,
And Phoebus gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs
On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin
To ope their golden eyes.
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise,
Arise, arise!
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.
This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
This is very midsummer madness. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.
