William Shakespeare

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing read more

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists
As if his life lay on't.

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act read more

But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 3.

Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again.

Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on,
And turn again.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
read more

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came.
Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.

He that is strucken blind cannot forget
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost.