William Shakespeare

Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
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Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me, that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred, and this dear conjunction
Plant neighborhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.

We are not ourselves
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind
To suffer with the body.

We are not ourselves
When nature, being oppressed, commands the mind
To suffer with the body.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

So full of artless jealousy is guilt
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt.

Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?

Who riseth from a feast
With that keen appetite that he sits down?

If thou art rich, thou'rt poor,
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st read more

If thou art rich, thou'rt poor,
For, like an ass whose back with ingots bows,
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey,
And death unloads thee.