William Shakespeare

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So read more

That it should come to this,
But two months dead, nay, not so much, not two,
So excellent a king, that was to this
Hyperion to a satyr, so loving to my mother
That he might not beteem the winds of heaven
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth,
Must I remember? Why, she would hang on him
As if increase of appetite had grown
By what it fed on, and yet within a month--
Let me not think on't; frailty, thy name is woman--
A little month, or ere those shoes were old
With which she followed my poor father's body
Like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she--
O God, a beast that wants discourse of reason
Would have mourned longer--married with my uncle,
My father's brother, but no more like my father
Than I to Hercules.

Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits.

Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but backrout quite the wits.

I 'll speak in a monstrous little voice. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

I 'll speak in a monstrous little voice. -A Midsummer Night's Dream. Act i. Sc. 2.

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor read more

If to do were as easy as to know what were good to do, chapels had been churches, and poor men's cottages princes' palaces. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 2.

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where read more

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood so cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal. I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.