William Shakespeare

See where she comes, apparelled like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of read more

See where she comes, apparelled like the spring,
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king
Of every virtue gives renown to men!

These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, read more

These are the forgeries of jealousy;
And never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
Or in the beached margent of the sea,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturbed our sport.

Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud.

Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud.

This bold bad man. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2.

This bold bad man. -King Henry VIII. Act ii. Sc. 2.

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your read more

You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,
Come hither from the furrow and be merry.
Make holiday: your rye-straw hats put on,
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one
In country footing.