William Shakespeare

Be it not in thy care. Go,
I charge thee, invite them all; let in the tide
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Be it not in thy care. Go,
I charge thee, invite them all; let in the tide
Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide.

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.

That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

Anon, as patient as the female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will read more

Anon, as patient as the female dove
When that her golden couplets are disclosed,
His silence will sit drooping.

Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
By th' mass and 'tis, like a read more

Do you see yonder cloud that's almost in shape of a camel?
By th' mass and 'tis, like a camel indeed.
Methinks it is like a weasel.
It is backed like a weasel.
Or like a whale.
Very like a whale.