William Shakespeare

Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall—and farewell king! -King Richard II. Act read more

Comes at the last, and with a little pin Bores through his castle wall—and farewell king! -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 2.

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more

But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast?

Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
By bare imagination of a feast?

Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.

Even in the force and road of casualty. -The Merchant of Venice. Act ii. Sc. 9.

The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
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The barge she sat in, like a burnished throne,
Burned on the water: the poop was beaten gold;
Purple the sails, and so perfumed that
The winds were lovesick with them; the oars were silver,
Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made
The water which they beat to follow faster,
As amorous of their strokes.