William Shakespeare

There is thy gold--worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these read more

There is thy gold--worse poison to men's souls,
Doing more murder in this loathsome world,
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none
Farewell. Buy food and get thyself in flesh.

But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quenched in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon,
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But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft
Quenched in the chaste beams of the wat'ry moon,
And the imperial vot'ress passed on,
In maiden meditation, fancy-free.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.

This even-handed justice
Commends th' ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.

This even-handed justice
Commends th' ingredience of our poisoned chalice
To our own lips.

Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.

Now, by two-headed Janus, Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 1.