William Shakespeare

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
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There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

Must I give way and room to your rash choler?

For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

For night owls shriek where mounting larks should sing.

To offend and judge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.

To offend and judge are distinct offices,
And of opposed natures.

It needs not nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage must be verified,
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It needs not nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage must be verified,
That beggars mounted run their horse to death.