ITT: Shakespeare's best lines

Occasionally I am stunned here. If I do not register my witness the salty savor on my tongue-tip will remain with me for hours. The marriage of Rabelais and Rupi. Brilliant.

No, but you could consider it a half-rhyme.

not in modern english but it used to

i think they both rhymed with cove

No. This is an eye rhyme.

Cheers lads. How about "move" and "you"? Would it be a half rhyme too?

>Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love you

I know it fucks up the meter but still

Yeah it would be. Poets have to make use of things like that regularly because English is actually a terrible language for poetry.

Only Italian competes with English in the West, senpai.

No

I suspect move was pronounced as muhve though back then

youtube.com/watch?v=gPlpphT7n9s

I could be well moved if I were as you.
If I could pray to move, prayers would move me.
But I am constant as the northern star,
Of whose true-fixed and resting quality
There is no fellow in the firmament.
The skies are painted with unnumbered sparks.
They are all fire and every one doth shine,
But there’s but one in all doth hold his place.
So in the world.

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire.
I do wander everywhere
Swifter than the moon’s sphere.
And I serve the fairy queen
To dew her orbs upon the green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be.
In their gold coats spots you see.
Those be rubies, fairy favors.
In those freckles live their savors.
I must go seek some dewdrops here
And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear.
Farewell, thou lob of spirits. I’ll be gone.
Our queen and all our elves come here user

Total pseud doesn't know about original pronunciation

This above all: to thine own self be true

Et tu, Brute.

"Et tu, Brute. Now shake yo bootay." - Julius Caesar

I could be bounded in a nutshell and count myself a king of infinite space, were it not that I have bad dreams.

Thanks, I may use this one then

>It's a Spanish user tries to correct Shakespeare episode

You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcasses of unburied men
That do corrupt my air, I banish you;
And here remain with your uncertainty!
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts!
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes,
Fan you into despair! Have the power still
To banish your defenders; till at length
Your ignorance, which finds not till it feels,
Making not reservation of yourselves,
Still your own foes, deliver you as most
Abated captives to some nation
That won you without blows! Despising,
For you, the city, thus I turn my back:
There is a world elsewhere.

Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world like a colossus, and we petty men walk under his huge legs to find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time a masters of their fates.
The fault dear Brutus, is not in our stars,
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.

youtube.com/watch?v=0bi1PvXCbr8