William Shakespeare

What many men desire--that 'many' may be meant
By the fool multitude that choose by show,
Not read more

What many men desire--that 'many' may be meant
By the fool multitude that choose by show,
Not learning more than the fond eye doth teach,
Which pries not to th' interior, but like the martlet
Builds in the weather on the outward wall,
Even in the force and road of casualty.

The birds chaunt melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green read more

The birds chaunt melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a checkered shadow on the ground;
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise;
And after conflict such as was supposed
The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoyed,
When with a happy storm they were surprised,
And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave,
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber,
Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
Be unto us as is a nurse's song
Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.

Had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might ha' been read more

Had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might ha' been a grandam ere she died;
And so may you, for a light heart lives long.

And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of read more

And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honor to disgrace's feet?

No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came read more

No doubt they rose up early to observe
The rite of May; and, hearing our intent,
Came here in grace of our solemnity.