William Shakespeare

If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train read more

If but a dozen French
Were there in arms, they would be as a call
To train ten thousand English to their side,
Or as a little snow, tumbled about,
Anon becomes a mountain.

And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
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And, may I say to thee, this pride of hers,
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her;
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age
Should have been cherished by her childlike duty,
I now am full resolved to take a wife
And turn her out to who will take her in.

That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.

That, like an eagle in a dovecote, I
Fluttered your Volscians in Corioles.

The sense of death is most in apprehension,
And the poor beetle that we tread upon
In read more

The sense of death is most in apprehension,
And the poor beetle that we tread upon
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great
As when a giant dies.

O, he's a limb that has but a disease:
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.

O, he's a limb that has but a disease:
Mortal, to cut it off; to cure it, easy.