William Shakespeare

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
(Nay, let 'em be unmanly), yet are followed.

New customs,
Though they be never so ridiculous,
(Nay, let 'em be unmanly), yet are followed.

There is no darkness but ignorance.

There is no darkness but ignorance.

Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with read more

Where now I have no one to blush with me,
To cross their arms and hang their heads with mine,
To mask their brows and hide their infamy;
But I alone, alone must sit and pine,
Seasoning the earth with show'rs of silver brine,
Mingling my talk with tears, my grief with groans,
Poor wasting monuments of lasting moans.

I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea read more

I have ventured,
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
This many summers in a sea of glory,
But far beyond my depth. My high-blown pride
At length broke under me, and now has left me,
Weary and old with service, to the mercy
Of a rude stream that must for ever hide me.