William Shakespeare

Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
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Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on--or woe upon thy life!

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

We are time's subjects, and time bids be gone.

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with read more

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!

If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
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If all the year were playing holidays,
To sport would be as tedious as to work;
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural.