William Shakespeare

Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes.

A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

A kind Of excellent dumb discourse. -The Tempest. Act iii. Sc. 3.

Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
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Is this a dagger which I see before me,
The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee!
I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible
To feeling as to sight? or art thou but
A dagger of the mind, a false creation
Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain?
I see thee yet, in form as palpable
As this which now I draw.

Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.

Fire that's closest kept burns most of all.