William Shakespeare

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner.

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner.

Fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

Fish not, with this melancholy bait, For this fool gudgeon, this opinion. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

Eating the bitter bread of banishment. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

Eating the bitter bread of banishment. -King Richard II. Act iii. Sc. 1.

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not read more

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou mayst.