William Shakespeare

I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
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I told you, sir, they were redhot with drinking;
So full of valor that they smote the air
For breathing in their faces, beat the ground,
For kissing of their feet; yet always bending
Towards their project.

Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.

Conceit in weakest bodies strongest works.

Lord, what fools these mortals be.

Lord, what fools these mortals be.

All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,
An 'tis no better reckoned but of these
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All gold and silver rather turn to dirt,
An 'tis no better reckoned but of these
Who worship dirty gods.

Thus the whirligig of time
Brings in his revenges.

Thus the whirligig of time
Brings in his revenges.