William Shakespeare

Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
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Have you the heart? When your head did but ache,
I knit my handkercher about your brows--
The best I had, a princess wrought it me--
And I did never ask it you again;
And with my hand at midnight held your head,
And like the watchful minutes to the hour,
Still and anon cheered up the heavy time,
Saying, 'What lack you?' and 'Where lies your grief?'

With devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.

With devotion's visage,
And pious action, we do sugar o'er
The devil himself.

I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.

I follow him, to serve my turn upon him.

Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin.

Away with him, away with him! He speaks Latin.

This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an't please
your lordship, a kind of sleeping read more

This apoplexy, as I take it, is a kind of lethargy, an't please
your lordship, a kind of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson
tingling.