William Shakespeare

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.'
Flatter read more

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say;
For 'get you gone,' she doth not mean 'away.'
Flatter and praise, commend, extol their graces;
Though ne'er so black, say they have angels' faces.
That man that hath a tongue, I say is no man,
If with his tongue he cannot win a woman.

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for read more

The man that hath no music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus. Let no such man be trusted. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

My pride fell with my fortunes. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.

My pride fell with my fortunes. -As You Like It. Act i. Sc. 2.

I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which read more

I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.