William Shakespeare

Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
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Who has a book of all that monarchs do,
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown;
For vice repeated is like the wand'ring wind,
Blows dust in others' eye, to spread itself;
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear,
The breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear
To stop the air would hurt them.

And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
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And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherished by her childlike duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who will take her in.

O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
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O nation miserable,
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred,
When shalt thou see thy wholesome days again,
Since that the truest issue of thy throne
By his own interdiction stands accursed
And does blaspheme his breed?

As wither'd roses yield a late perfume.

As wither'd roses yield a late perfume.

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.

Good wine needs no bush. -As You Like It. Epilogue.