William Shakespeare

This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve
By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath
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This guest of summer,
The temple-haunting martlet, does approve
By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath
Smells wooingly here. No jutty, frieze,
Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird
Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle.
Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed
The air is delicate.

'T were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it. -All 's Well read more

'T were all one That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 1.

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick
in fortune, often the surfeits of read more

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that when we are sick
in fortune, often the surfeits of our own behavior, we make
guilty of our disasters the sun, the moon, and stars; as if we
were villains on necessity; fools by heavenly compulsion; knaves,
thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance; drunkards,
liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary
influence; and all that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on.
An admirable evasion of whoremaster man, to lay his goatish
disposition on the charge of a star.

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where read more

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood so cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal. I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

I'll give thee armor to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though read more

I'll give thee armor to keep off that word;
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.