William Shakespeare

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook: most dangerous
Is read more

O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint,
With saints dost bait thy hook: most dangerous
Is that temptation that doth goad us on
To sin in loving virtue.

I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea read more

I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.

Time is the justice that examines all offenders.

Time is the justice that examines all offenders.

Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her read more

Let still the woman take An elder than herself: so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart: For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 4.