William Shakespeare

Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
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Not that I have the power to clutch my hand
When his fair angels would salute by palm,
But for my hand, as unattempted yet,
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich.
Well, whiles I am a beggar, I will rail
And say there is no sin but to be rich;
And being rich, my virtue then shall be
To say there is no vice but beggary.

So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! -King Henry VIII. Act iv. Sc. 2.

O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.

O, while you live, tell truth, and shame the devil.

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the read more

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks. -King Henry IV. Part I. Act i. Sc. 3.

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last read more

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death.