William Shakespeare

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful read more

'T is strange that death should sing. I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death, And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings His soul and body to their lasting rest. -King John. Act v. Sc. 7.

(King Ferdinand:) In love, I hope--sweet fellowship in shame!
(Berowne:) One drunkard loves another of the name.

(King Ferdinand:) In love, I hope--sweet fellowship in shame!
(Berowne:) One drunkard loves another of the name.

All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit read more

All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will--
read more

I take to-day a wife, and my election
Is led on in the conduct of my will--
My will enkindled my by mine and ears
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores
Of will and judgment.

A goodly apple rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. read more

A goodly apple rotten at the heart: O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.