William Shakespeare

His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all read more

His legs bestrid the ocean: his reared arm
Crested the world: his voice was propertied
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends;
But when he meant to quail and shake the orb,
He was as rattling thunder.

Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan!

Here comes one with a paper: God give him grace to groan!

They do not abuse the king that flatter him.
For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
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They do not abuse the king that flatter him.
For flattery is the bellows blows up sin;
The thing the which is flattered, but a spark
To which that blast gives heat and stronger glowing;
Whereas reproof, obedient and in order,
Fits kings as they are men, for they may err.

Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Let fancy still in my sense in Lethe steep;
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep!

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one fault seeming monstrous till his fellow-fault came to match it. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.