William Shakespeare

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.

The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:
I have hope to live, and am prepared read more

The miserable have no other medicine,
But only hope:
I have hope to live, and am prepared to die.

Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?

Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?

'Tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve,
For daws to peck read more

'Tis not long after
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve,
For daws to peck at.

Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity,
read more

Madam, I swear I use no art at all.
That he is mad, 'tis true: 'tis true 'tis pity,
And pity 'tis 'tis true--a foolish figure.