William Shakespeare

I'll potch at him some way;
Or wrath or craft may get him.

I'll potch at him some way;
Or wrath or craft may get him.

The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope. -Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in read more

For what is he they follow? Truly, gentlemen,
A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
One raised in blood and one in blood established;
One that made means to come by what he hath,
And slaughtered those that were the means to help him;
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil
Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
One that hath ever been God's enemy.

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in read more

But earthlier happy is the rose distill'd Than that which withering on the virgin thorn Grows, lives, and dies in single blessedness. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 1.

But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
read more

But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised,
And mine that I was proud on--mine so much
That I myself was to myself not mine,
Valuing of her--why she, O, she is fall'n
Into a pit of ink, that the wide sea
Hath drops too few to wash her clean again,
And salt too little which may season give
To her foul tainted flesh!