William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her read more
She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' th' bud,
Feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest read more
Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught:
Our sweetest songs are those which tell of saddest thought.
Great king,
Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
Great king,
Few love to hear the sins they love to act.
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at read more
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen,
Let him not know it, and he's not robb'd at all.
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others.
Whose own hard dealings teaches them suspect
The thoughts of others.
Great men have reaching hands.
Great men have reaching hands.
I would have thee gone,
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,
Who lets it hop read more
I would have thee gone,
And yet no further than a wanton's bird,
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,
And with a silk thread plucks it back again.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
So honour peereth in the meanest habit.
