William Shakespeare

The sense of death is most in apprehension,
And the poor beetle that we tread upon
In read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension,
And the poor beetle that we tread upon
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

A little more than kin, and less than kind!

A little more than kin, and less than kind!

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her read more

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.

He is well paid that is well satisfied. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

He is well paid that is well satisfied. -The Merchant of Venice. Act iv. Sc. 1.

Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
I am descended of a gentler blood.
Thou art no father nor read more

Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
I am descended of a gentler blood.
Thou art no father nor friend of mine.