William Shakespeare

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
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That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater, being wooed of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poisoned flattery?

What drink'st thou oft, instead of homage sweet,
But poisoned flattery?

Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
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Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thine:
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine,
Whose weakness married to thy stronger state
Makes with me thy strength to communicate.
If aught possess thee from me, it is dross,
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle moss;
Who all for want of pruning, with intrusion
Infect thy sap and live on thy confusion.

Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.

Old John of Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster. -King Richard II. Act i. Sc. 1.

And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.

And men sit down to that nourishment which is called supper. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act i. Sc. 1.