William Shakespeare

Death my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't
That sure th' have read more

Death my lord,
Their clothes are after such a pagan cut to 't
That sure th' have worn out Christendom.

Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will;
The very devils read more

Yet 'tis greater skill
In a true hate to pray they have their will;
The very devils cannot plague them better.

Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?

Whence is that knocking?
How is't with me, when every noise appals me?

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in read more

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in blood and one in blood established;
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughtered those that were the means to help him;
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy.

O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?

O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring face!
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?