William Shakespeare

Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind.
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Ah, poor our sex! this fault in us I find,
The error of our eye directs our mind.
What error leads must error.

Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?
Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?
Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
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Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.

Why, now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

Why, now blow wind, swell billow, and swim bark!
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard.

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?'