William Shakespeare

Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.

Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God,
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.

No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. read more

No, Antony, take the lot:
But, first or last, your fine Egyptian cookery
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius Caesar
Grew faw with feasting there.

These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am read more

These signs have marked me extraordinary,
And all the courses of my life do show
I am not in the roll of common men.

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements.

The raven himself is hoarse
That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan
Under my battlements.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.