William Shakespeare

My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
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My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou seest is but a clod
And module of confounded royalty.

To leave this keen encounter of our wits. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.

To leave this keen encounter of our wits. -King Richard III. Act i. Sc. 2.

Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.

Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.

Friends, Romans countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

Friends, Romans countrymen, lend me your ears;
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of read more

How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.