William Shakespeare

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry.
But were read more

A wretched soul, bruised with adversity,
We bid be quiet when we hear it cry.
But were we burd'ned with like weight of pain,
As much or more we should ourselves complain:
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve thee,
With urging helpless patience wouldst relieve me;
But if thou live to see like right bereft,
This fool-begged patience in thee will be left.

A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. -Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5.

A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears, And harsh in sound to thine. -Coriolanus. Act iv. Sc. 5.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry cock-a-diddle-dowe.

Whip me such honest knaves!

Whip me such honest knaves!