William Shakespeare

Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,
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Madam, you have bereft me of all words.
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins,
And there is such confusion in my powers
As, after some oration fairly spoke
By a beloved prince, there doth appear
Among the buzzing pleased multitude,
Where every something being blent together
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy
Expressed and not expressed.

Diseases, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.

Diseases, desperate grown,
By desperate appliance are reliev'd,
Or not at all.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow

There is special providence in the fall of a sparrow

Can it be
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
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Can it be
That modesty may more betray our sense
Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough,
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary
And pitch our evils there?