William Shakespeare

Praise her but for this her without-door form--
Which on my faith deserves high speech--and straight
The read more

Praise her but for this her without-door form--
Which on my faith deserves high speech--and straight
The shrug, the hum or ha, these pretty brands
That calumny doth use--O, I am out,
That mercy does, for calumny will sear
Virtue itself--these shrugs, these hums and ha's,
When you have said she's goodly, come between
Ere you can say she's honest.

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

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

And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

And there is pansies, that's for thoughts.

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by read more

Surely, sir,
There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends;
For, being not propped by ancestry, whose grace
Chalks successors their way, nor called upon
For high feats done to th' crown, neither allied
To eminent assistants, but spiderlike
Out of his self-drawing web, 'a gives us note,
The force of his own merit makes his way,
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys
A place next to the king.

Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then if he lose he makes a swanlike end,
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Let music sound while he doth make his choice;
Then if he lose he makes a swanlike end,
Fading in music.