William Shakespeare

His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other read more

His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished,
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.

Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
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Make me to see't; or at the least so prove it
That the probation bear no hinge nor loop
To hang a doubt on--or woe upon thy life!

Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

Motley 's the only wear. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 7.

The rational hind Costard. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.

The rational hind Costard. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 2.

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him;
Yet nor the lays of birds, not the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.