William Shakespeare

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.'

Take that life, beseech you,
Which I so often owe; but your ring first,
And here the read more

Take that life, beseech you,
Which I so often owe; but your ring first,
And here the bracelet of the truest princess
That ever swore her faith.

All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown.
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

All's well that ends well; still the fine's the crown.
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown.

We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves
And spend our flatteries to drink those men
Upon whose read more

We make ourselves fools to disport ourselves
And spend our flatteries to drink those men
Upon whose age we void it up again
With poisonous spite and envy.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date.