William Shakespeare

A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the
very ice of chastity is in them.

A nun of winter's sisterhood kisses not more religiously; the
very ice of chastity is in them.

The lady doth protest too much, me thinks

The lady doth protest too much, me thinks

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.

For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar, and 't shall go hard
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For 'tis the sport to have the enginer
Hoist with his own petar, and 't shall go hard
But I will delve one yard below their mines
And blow them at the moon.