William Shakespeare

The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
That's curded by the read more

The noble sister of Publicola,
The moon of Rome, chaste as the icicle
That's curded by the frost from purest snow
And hangs on Dian's temple--dear Valeria!

Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble read more

Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamped upon it.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon 'em. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 5.

Like the lily
That once was mistress of the field and flourished,
I'll hang my head and read more

Like the lily
That once was mistress of the field and flourished,
I'll hang my head and perish.

He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all of my
substance into that fat read more

He hath eaten me out of house and home; he hath put all of my
substance into that fat belly of his.