Shakesphere

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  • I have heard the spirits of the dead May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother Appeared to me last night; for ne'er was dream So like a waking.
  • Angels, and ministers of grace, defend us! Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd. Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell. Be thy intents wicked or charitable. Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee.
  • My hour is almost come, When I to sulphurous and tormenting flames Must render up myself.
  • Well may it sort that this portentous figure Comes armed through our watch; so like the king That was and is the question of these wars.
  • By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.
  • As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood, Disasters in the sun; and the moist star Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands Was sick almost to doomsday with eclipse
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