William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
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.
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument. -King Henry V. Act iii. Sc. 1.
O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping. -As You read more
O, wonderful, wonderful, and most wonderful wonderful! and yet again wonderful, and after that out of all hooping. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee
To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile read more
O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
read more
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou seest is but a clod
And module of confounded royalty.
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!
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the read more
Poor Tom, that eats the swimming frog, the toad, the todpole, the
wall-newt and the water; that in the fury of his heart, when the
foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets, swallows the old rat
and the ditch-dog, drinks the green mantle of the standing pool;
who is whipped from tithing to tithing, and stock-punished and
imprisoned; who hath had three suits to his back, six shirts to
his body,
Horse to ride, and weapon to wear,
But mice and rats, and such small deer,
Have been Tom's food for seven long year.
And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
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And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherished by her childlike duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who will take her in.
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.
