-
Posts
-
“While you live, tell truth and shame the devil!”
King Henry IV. Part I. ACT III Scene 1.“I had rather be a kitten and cry mew
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers.”
King Henry IV. Part I. ACT III Scene 1.“An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of,
I am a pepper-corn.”
King Henry IV. Part I. ACT III Scene 3.“An habitation giddy and unsure
Hath he that buildeth on the vulgar heart”.
King Henry IV. Part II. ACT I Scene 3.“An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of,
I am a pepper-corn.”
King Henry IV. Part I. ACT III Scene 3.A pepper corn ? The mans high as a kite ffs :shock:
@pete wrote:
“An I have not forgotten what the inside of a church is made of,
I am a pepper-corn.”
King Henry IV. Part I. ACT III Scene 3.A pepper corn ? The mans high as a kite ffs :shock:
Sonnet 14 Not from the stars do I my judgement pluck
Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck;
And yet methinks I have astronomy,
But not to tell of good or evil luck,
Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons’ quality;
Nor can I fortune to brief minutes tell,
Pointing to each his thunder, rain and wind,
Or say with princes if it shall go well,
By oft predict that I in heaven find:
But from thine eyes my knowledge I derive,
And, constant stars, in them I read such art
As truth and beauty shall together thrive,
If from thyself to store thou wouldst convert;
Or else of thee this I prognosticate:
Thy end is truth’s and beauty’s doom and date.If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it, that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die.
Twelfth Night. ACT I Scene 1.Some are born great, some achieve greatness,
and some have greatness thrust upon ’em.
Twelfth Night. ACT II Scene 5.If this were played upon a stage now,
I could condemn it as an improbable fiction.
Twelfth Night. ACT III Scene 4.Thus the whirligig of time brings in his revenges.
Twelfth Night. ACT V Scene 1.@pete wrote:
like i said load of old tosh :lol:
:shock:
“Foul whisperings are abroad ….” (Macbeth 5.1)
:wink:
Sonnet 54: O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem
By that sweet ornament which truth doth give!
The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem
For that sweet odour which doth in it live.
The canker blooms have full as deep a dye
As the perfumèd tincture of the roses,
Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly
When summer’s breath their maskèd buds discloses;
But, for their virtue only is their show,
They live unwooed and unrespected fade,
Die to themselves. Sweet roses do not so;
Of their sweet deaths are sweetest odours made.
And so of you, beauteous and lovely youth,
When that shall vade, by verse distills your truth
Get involved in this discussion! Log in or register now to have your say!