William Shakespeare

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell!

O, then, what graces in my love do dwell
That he hath turned a heaven unto a hell!

She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
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She bids you on the wanton rushes lay you down
And rest your gentle head upon her lap,
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you
And on your eyelids crown the god of sleep,
Charming your brood with pleasing heaviness,
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep
As is the difference betwixt day and night
The hour before the heavenly-harnessed team
Begins his golden progress in the east.

(Salerio:) . . . if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her
word.
(Solanio:) I would read more

(Salerio:) . . . if my gossip Report be an honest woman of her
word.
(Solanio:) I would she were as lying a gossip in that as ever
knapped ginger or made her neighbors believe she wept for the
death of a third husband.

Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Let us make an honourable retreat. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.

Love sought is good, but given unsought is better.