A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
A piece of work that will make sick men whole.
I' th' commonwealth I would by contraries
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic
Would I admit; no name of magistrate;
Letters should not be known; riches, poverty,
And use of service, none; contract, succession,
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none;
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil;
No occupation; all men idle, all;
And women too, but innocent and pure;
No sovereignty-
SEBASTIAN.
When wasteful war shall statues overturn,
And broils root out the work of masonry,
Nor Mars his sword nor war's quick fire shall burn
The living record of your memory.
Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot, Take thou what course thou wilt.
My lord, I love you;
And durst commend a secret to your ear
Much weightier than this work.
Work, work your thoughts, and therein see a siege;
Behold the ordnance on their carriages,
With fatal mouths gaping on girded Harfleur.
What a piece of work is a man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god.
If all the year were playing holidays, To sport would be as tedious as to work.
These banish'd men, that I have kept withal,
Are men endu'd with worthy qualities;
Forgive them what they have committed here,
And let them be recall'd from their exile:
They are reformed, civil, full of good,
And fit for great employment, worthy lord.
What a piece of work is a man.
Now nature cares not for thy mortal vigour,
Since her best work is ruin'd with thy rigour.
The heavens still must work.
Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your
whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do
prove my occupation a mystery; but what mystery there should be
in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine.
O love,
That thou couldst see my wars to-day, and knew'st
The royal occupation!
'Tis my vocation, Hal 'tis no sin for a man to labour in his vocation.
The devil a Puritan that he is, or anything constantly but a
time-pleaser; an affection'd ass that cons state without book and
utters it by great swarths; the best persuaded of himself, so
cramm'd, as he thinks, with excellencies that it is his grounds
of faith that all that look on him love him; and on that vice in
him will my revenge find notable cause to work.
The King is a good king, but it must be as it may; he passes
some humours and careers.
Why, man, they did make love to this employment!
Come my spade. There is no ancient gentlemen but gardeners, ditchers, and gravemakers they hold up Adam's profession.
Our life is short, but to expand that span to vast eternity is virtue's work.
Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl,
And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves-
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories