Announcements

  • Now is the winter of our discontent
    Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
    And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house

    Comments (-1)
  • Now is the winter of our discontent
    Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
    And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
    In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.

    books

    Comments (-1)
  • Now is the winter of our discontent
    Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
    And all the clouds that lour'd 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,
    Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
    I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
    To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
    I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

    Comments (-1)
  • New Content1

  • New Content2

  • New Content3

Headlines & Features

Article Library