William Shakespeare

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
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My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical,
Shakes so my single state of man that function
Is smothered in surmise and nothing is
But what is not.

Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
Will tempt unto a close exploit of death?

My friends were poor but honest. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.

My friends were poor but honest. -All 's Well that Ends Well. Act i. Sc. 3.

Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act read more

Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs. -King John. Act iii. Sc. 1.

That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.

That in the captain's but a choleric word,
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy.