William Shakespeare

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate read more

But neither bended knees, pure hands held up,
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears,
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire.

It is the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman
Which gives the stern'st good-night.

It is the owl that shrieked, the fatal bellman
Which gives the stern'st good-night.

Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble read more

Now, good my lord,
Let there be some more test made of my mettle
Before so noble and so great a figure
Be stamped upon it.

'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester,
'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.'
And since, methinks, read more

'Ay,' quoth my uncle Gloucester,
'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace.'
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
Because sweet flow'rs are slow and weeds make haste.

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.

I dare do all that may become a man;
Who dares do more is none.