William Shakespeare

I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.

I am not merry; but I do beguile
The thing I am by seeming otherwise.

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched read more

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks. Rage, blow,
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drenched our steeples, downed the cocks.

For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to a grim and comfortless read more

Sweet recreation barred, what doth ensue
But moody and dull melancholy,
Kinsman to a grim and comfortless despair,
And at her heels a huge infectious troop
Of pale distemperatures and foes to life?

The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.

The miserable have no other medicine But only hope.