William Shakespeare

Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
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Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song,
That old and antique song we heard last night.
Methought it did relieve my passion much,
More than light airs and recollected terms
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times.
Come, but one verse.

I go, I go, look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.

I go, I go, look how I go,
Swifter than arrow from the Tartar's bow.

My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

My library Was dukedom large enough. -The Tempest. Act i. Sc. 2.

All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,
An 'tis no better reckoned but of these
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All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,
An 'tis no better reckoned but of these
Who worship dirty gods.

The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.

The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be.