William Shakespeare

I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more read more

I grant you, friends, if you should fright the ladies out of
their wits, they would have no more discretion but to hang us;
but I will aggravate my voice so that I will roar you as gently
as any suckling dove; I will roar you an 'twere any nightingale.

It may do good; pride hath no other glass
To show itself but pride, for supple knees
read more

It may do good; pride hath no other glass
To show itself but pride, for supple knees
Feed arrogance and are the proud man's fees.

Rumor is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
And of so easy and so plain a read more

Rumor is a pipe
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures,
And of so easy and so plain a stop
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads,
The still-discordant wavering multitude,
Can play upon it.

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. read more

Down on your knees, And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love. -As You Like It. Act iii. Sc. 5.

Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others.

Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others.