William Shakespeare ( 10 of 1881 )
How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.
How far your eyes may pierce I cannot tell;
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well.
Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky read more
Men are April when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. -As You Like It. Act iv. Sc. 1.
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offense?
Whereto serves mercy
But to confront the visage of offense?
How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object!
For this the foolish overcareful fathers
read more
How quickly nature falls into revolt
When gold becomes her object!
For this the foolish overcareful fathers
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their brains with care.
Their bones with industry.
For this they have engrossed and piled up
The cankered heaps of strange-achieved gold;
For this they have been thoughtful to invest
Their sons with arts and martial exercises.
He that dies pays all debts
He that dies pays all debts
A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. read more
A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5.
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, read more
In my school-days, when I had lost one shaft, I shot his fellow of the selfsame flight The selfsame way, with more advised watch, To find the other forth; and by adventuring both, I oft found both. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although read more
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That read more
So holy and so perfect is my love,
And I in such a poverty of grace,
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop
To glean the broken ears after the man
That the main harvest reaps.
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which read more
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.
