William Shakespeare

This is a devil, and no monster. I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.

This is a devil, and no monster. I will leave him; I have no
long spoon.

I'll potch at him some way;
Or wrath or craft may get him.

I'll potch at him some way;
Or wrath or craft may get him.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

My heart is ever at your service, my lord.

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing read more

Every night he comes
With musics of all sorts, and songs composed
To her unworthiness. It nothing steads us
To chide him from our eaves, for he persists
As if his life lay on't.

I do beseech you--
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess
(As I confess it is read more

I do beseech you--
Though I perchance am vicious in my guess
(As I confess it is my nature's plague
To spy into abuses, and oft my jealousy
Shapes faults that are not), that your wisdom yet
From one that so imperfectly conjects
Would take no notice, nor build yourself a trouble
Out of his scattering and unsure observance.