William Shakespeare

Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
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Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.

And where the offense is, let the great axe fall.

I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.

I heard a bird so sing,
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king.

Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enrolled
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Now the good gods forbid
That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude
Towards her deserved children is enrolled
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam
Should now eat up her own!

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furred gowns hide all.

Through tattered clothes small vices do appear;
Robes and furred gowns hide all.