Escritas

Poems List

The law hath not been

The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept.
👁️ 175

What's mine is yours, and

What's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine.
👁️ 163

Yet do I fear thy

Yet do I fear thy nature It is too full o' the milk of human kindness.
👁️ 201

And oftentimes, to win us

And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths, Win us with honest trifles, to betray's In deepest consequence.
👁️ 160

Double, double toil and trouble

Double, double toil and trouble Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
👁️ 165

Out, damned spot out, I

Out, damned spot out, I say
👁️ 112

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time, And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.
👁️ 212

Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd

Lay on, Macduff, And damn'd be him that first cries, Hold, enough
👁️ 181

A man in all the

A man in all the world's new fashion planted, That hath a mint of phrases in his brain.
👁️ 203

Now is the winter of

Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York, And all the clouds that loured upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths, Our bruised arms hung up for monuments, Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass I, that am rudely stamped, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph I, that am curtailed of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deformed, unfinished, sent before my time Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, And that so lamely and unfashionable That dogs bark at me as I halt by them,-- Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to spy my shadow in the sun.
👁️ 133

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