William Shakespeare

Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
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Will fortune never come with both hands full,
But write her fair words still in foulest letters?
She either gives a stomach and no food--
Such are the poor, in health--or else a feast
And takes away the stomach-- such are the rich,
That have abundance, and enjoy it not.

But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
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But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her--why she, O, she is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!

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.

Many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

Many a time and oft In the Rialto you have rated me. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

I hate ingratitude more in man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice.

I hate ingratitude more in man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice.