Maxioms by William Shakespeare
Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
Come, the croaking raven doth bellow for revenge.
Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This even-handed justice
Commends th' ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.
This even-handed justice
Commends th' ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.
My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation. That away,
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My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation. That away,
Man are but gilded loam or painted clay.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
O, take the sense, sweet, of my innocence
Love takes the meaning in love's conference.
