William Shakespeare

A fool's bolt is soon shot.

A fool's bolt is soon shot.

I have offended reputation,
A most unnoble swerving.

I have offended reputation,
A most unnoble swerving.

Every man can master a grief but he that has it.

Every man can master a grief but he that has it.

The language I have learnt these forty years,
My native English, now I must forgo;
And now read more

The language I have learnt these forty years,
My native English, now I must forgo;
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
Or like a cunning instrument cased up
Or, being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony.

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled read more

My free drift
Halts not particularly, but moves itself
In a wide sea of wax; no levelled malice
Infects one comma in the course I hold,
But flies an eagle flight, bold and forth on,
Leaving no tract behind.