William Shakespeare

How far that little candle throws its beams;
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

How far that little candle throws its beams;
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man, that mocks at it, and sets it light.

For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man, that mocks at it, and sets it light.

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth,
But, read more

Chide him for faults, and do it reverently,
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth,
But, being moody, give him time and scope,
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground,
Confound themselves with working.