William Shakespeare

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that Gods bids us do good for read more

But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture,
Tell them that Gods bids us do good for evil:
And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With odd old ends stol'n forth of holy writ,
And seems a saint, when most I play the devil.

The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst,
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

The private wound is deepest. O time most accurst,
'Mongst all foes that a friend should be the worst!

Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to read more

Our doubts are traitors,
And make us lose the good we oft might win,
By fearing to attempt.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
No nightingale.

It was the lark, the herald of the morn;
No nightingale.

So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
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So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.