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.

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

O, how full of briers is this working-day world!

'T is a cruelty To load a falling man. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3.

'T is a cruelty To load a falling man. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3.

And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

And like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, Be shook to air. -Troilus and Cressida. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.