William Shakespeare ( 10 of 368 )
What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be past grieve.
What's gone, and what's past help,
Should be past grieve.
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.
A fool's bolt is soon shot.
A fool's bolt is soon shot.
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar,
Making the hard way sweet and delectable.
In time the rod
Becomes more mocked than feared.
In time the rod
Becomes more mocked than feared.
For murder though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
For murder though it have no tongue, will speak
With most miraculous organ.
Revenge and wrong bring forth their kind;
The foul cubs like their parents are.
Revenge and wrong bring forth their kind;
The foul cubs like their parents are.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind and weather.
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove unkind.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
Cowards die many times before their deaths;
The valiant never taste of death but once.
