William Shakespeare

Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

Gard'ner, for telling me these news of woe,
Pray God the plants thou graft'st may never grow.

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. read more

I shall ne'er be ware of mine own wit till I break my shins against it. -As You Like It. Act ii. Sc. 4.

So may the outward shows be least themselves;
The world is still deceived with ornament.

So may the outward shows be least themselves;
The world is still deceived with ornament.

What, man, defy the devil? Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

What, man, defy the devil? Consider, he's an enemy to mankind.

With this there grows
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I King,
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With this there grows
In my most ill-compos'd affection such
A stanchless avarice that, were I King,
I should cut off the nobles for their lands,
Desire his jewels, and this other's house,
And my more-having would be as a sauce
To make me hunger more, that I should forge
Quarrels unjust against the good and loyal,
Destroying them for wealth.