William Shakespeare

There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.

There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs.

So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time

So our virtues Lie in the interpretation of the time

I hate ingratitude more in man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice.

I hate ingratitude more in man
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness,
Or any taint of vice.

Now, ye familiar spirits that are culled
Out of the powerful legions under earth,
Help me this read more

Now, ye familiar spirits that are culled
Out of the powerful legions under earth,
Help me this once, that France may get the field.

Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villany is not without such rheum.

Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes,
For villany is not without such rheum.