William Shakespeare

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your read more

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.

Diseases desperate grown
By desparate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.

Diseases desperate grown
By desparate appliance are relieved,
Or not at all.

There is a divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance or death.

There is a divinity in odd numbers, either in nativity, chance or death.

Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.

Where every something, being blent together turns to a wild of nothing.

I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable
As the dog Jew read more

I never heard a passion so confused,
So strange, outrageous, and so variable
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets:
'My daughter! O my ducats! O my daughter!
Fled with a Christian! O my Christian ducats!'