William Shakespeare

The cunning livery of hell. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The cunning livery of hell. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
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The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit,
The clock hath strucken twelve upon the bell;
My mistress made it one upon my cheek:
She is so hot because the meat is cold;
The meat is cold because you come not home;
You come not home because you have no stomach;
You have no stomach, having broke your fast;
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray,
Are penitent for your default to-day.

It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most read more

It doth appear you are a worthy judge;
You know the law, your exposition
Hath been most sound.

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as read more

And nothing can we call our own but death And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake, let us sit upon the ground And tell sad stories of the death of kings. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.