William Shakespeare

Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although read more

Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest
But may imagine how the bird was dead,
Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

She swore, i' faith, 'twas strange, 'twas passing strange;
'Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful.

'T is a cruelty To load a falling man. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3.

'T is a cruelty To load a falling man. -King Henry VIII. Act v. Sc. 3.

Sceptre and crown must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked read more

Sceptre and crown must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.

Give thy thoughts no tongue.