William Shakespeare

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us.

The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices
Make instruments to plague us.

In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
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In poison there is physic; and these news,
Having been well, that would have made me sick,
Being sick, have in some measure made me well.

Here beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.

Here beauty hangs upon the cheek of night,
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear.

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.

You undergo too strict a paradox,
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.

You undergo too strict a paradox,
Striving to make an ugly deed look fair.