William Shakespeare

Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.

Give me my robe, put on my crown, I have
Immortal longings in me.

For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
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For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;
And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not read more

At land indeed
Thou dost o'ercount me of my father's house:
But since the cuckoo builds not for himself,
Remain in't as thou mayst.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.

Thou art the Mars of malcontents. -The Merry Wives of Windsor. Act i. Sc. 3.

What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
And what have kings that privates have read more

What infinite heart's-ease
Must kings neglect that private men enjoy!
And what have kings that privates have not too,
Save ceremony, save general ceremony?