William Shakespeare

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows.

Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's read more

Thy gown? Why, ay--come, tailor, let us see't.
O mercy, God, what masquing stuff is there?
What's this, a sleeve? 'Tis like a demi-cannon.
What, up and down carved like an apple tart?
Here's snip and nip and cut and slish and slash,
Like to a censer in a barber's shop.
Why, what's a devil's name, tailor, call'st thou this?

Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast.

Wisely and slow. They stumble that run fast.

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently. For in the very read more

Nor do not saw the air too much with your hand, thus, but use all gently. For in the very torrent, tempest, and as I may say, whirlwind of passion, you must acquire and beget a temperance that may give it smoothness.

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue read more

Let me be cruel, not unnatural;
I will speak daggers to her, but use none.
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites:
How in my words somever she be shent,
To give them seals never, my soul, consent!