William Shakespeare

We that are in the vaward of our youth. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

We that are in the vaward of our youth. -King Henry IV. Part II. Act i. Sc. 2.

O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
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O, grief hath changed me since you saw me last,
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,
Have written strange defeatures in my face.

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your read more

When sorrows come, they come not single spies,
But in battalions: first, her father slain;
Next, your son gone, and he most violent author
Of his own just remove; the people muddied,
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and whispers
For good Polonius' death, and we have done but greenly
In hugger-mugger to inter him; poor Ophelia
Divided from herself and her fair judgment,
Without the which we are pictures or mere beasts;
Last, and as much containing as all these,
Her brother is in secret come from France,
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds,
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear
With pestilent speeches of his father's death,
Wherein necessity, of matter beggared,
Will nothing stick our person to arraign
In ear and ear.

Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
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Lo, here the gentle lark, weary of rest,
From his moist cabinet mounts up on high
And wakes the morning, from whose silver breast
The sun ariseth in his majesty;
Who doth the world so gloriously behold
That cedar tops and hills seem burnished gold.

She has deceived her father, and may thee.

She has deceived her father, and may thee.