William Shakespeare

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in read more

How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank! Here we will sit and let the sounds of music Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold: There 's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins. Such harmony is in immortal souls; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. -The Merchant of Venice. Act. v. Sc. 1.

Trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob.

Trust not the physician;
His antidotes are poison, and he slays
More than you rob.

Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
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Blood hath been shed ere now, i' th' olden time,
Ere humane stature purged the gentle weal;
Ay, and since too, murders have been performed
Too terrible for the ear. The time has been
That, when the brains were out, the man would die,
And there an end. But now they rise again,
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,
And push us from our stools. This is more strange
Than such a murder is.

And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

And sleep in dull cold marble. -King Henry VIII. Act iii. Sc. 2.

At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But read more

At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows;
But like of each thing that in season grows.