William Shakespeare

For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue.

For emulation hath a thousand sons
That one by one pursue.

O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
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O God! that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolution of the times
Make mountains level. and the continent,
Weary of solid firmness, melt itself
Into the sea!

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind!
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind!
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.

Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock--a stride and a stand;
ruminates like an hostess that hath read more

Why, 'a stalks up and down like a peacock--a stride and a stand;
ruminates like an hostess that hath no arithmetic but her brain
to set down her reckoning; bites his lip with a politic regard,
as who should say, 'There were wit in this head an 'twould out';
and so there is, but it lies as coldly in him as fire in a flint,
which will not show without knocking.