William Shakespeare

The ides of March are come.

The ides of March are come.

In poison there is no physic.

In poison there is no physic.

What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when read more

What then? What rests?
Try what repentance can. What can it not?
Yet what can it when one cannot repent?
O wretched state? O bosom black as death!
O limed soul, that struggling to be free
Art more engaged!

I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

I'll be damned for never a king's son in Christendom.

Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That read more

Her tongue will not obey her heart, nor can
Her heart inform her tongue--the swan's down-feather
That stands upon the swell at full of tide,
And neither way inclines.