William Shakespeare

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.

Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain-tops.

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
read more

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.

A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. read more

A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 5.

What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, read more

What's the business,
That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley
The sleepers of the house? Speak, speak!

Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, read more

Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? -King Henry VI. Part II. Act iv. Sc. 2.