William Shakespeare

This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall read more

This making of Christians will raise the price of hogs; if we
grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall not shortly have a rasher on
the coals for money.

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile read more

O, how wretched
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors!
There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

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!

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my read more

I am giddy; expectation whirls me round.
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet
That it enchants my sense.

There 's a skirmish of wit between them. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.

There 's a skirmish of wit between them. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act i. Sc. 1.