William Shakespeare

Nay, do not think I flatter.
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue read more

Nay, do not think I flatter.
For what advancement may I hope from thee,
That no revenue hast but thy good spirits
To feed and clothe thee? Why should the poor be flattered?
No, let the candied tongue like absurd pomp,
And crook the pregnant hinges of the knee
Where thrift may follow fawning.

Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind,
Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself;
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
To stop the air would hurt them.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.

Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
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Supposition all our lives shall be stuck full of eyes;
For treason is but trusted like the fox,
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherished and locked up,
Will have a wild trick of his ancestors.

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

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