William Shakespeare

O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
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O, how thy worth with manners may I sing
When thou art all the better part of me?
What can mine own praise to mine own self bring,
And what is't but mine own when I praise thee?

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Every one can master a grief but he that has it. -Much Ado about Nothing. Act iii. Sc. 2.

Contemplation makes a rare turkey cock of him. How he jets under
his advanced plumes!

Contemplation makes a rare turkey cock of him. How he jets under
his advanced plumes!

Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? . . . And the
creature run from the read more

Thou hast seen a farmer's dog bark at a beggar? . . . And the
creature run from the cur. There thou mightst behold the great
image of authority--a dog's obeyed in office.

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him;
Yet nor the lays of birds, not the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.