William Shakespeare

I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful.
Thou thought'st to help me, and such thanks I give
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I cannot give thee less, to be called grateful.
Thou thought'st to help me, and such thanks I give
As one near death to those that wish him live.

He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it
Cry 'No recovery.'

He is so plaguy proud that the death-tokens of it
Cry 'No recovery.'

At lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs.

At lovers' perjuries,
They say Jove laughs.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

He does it with a better grace, but I do it more natural. -Twelfth Night. Act ii. Sc. 3.

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. read more

If this were played upon a stage now, I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.