William Shakespeare

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.

How many cowards whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
read more

How many cowards whose hearts are all as false
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins
The beards of Hercules and frowning Mars,
Who inward searched, have livers white as milk!

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

I think we do know the sweet Roman hand. -Twelfth Night. Act iii. Sc. 4.

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what read more

Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite,
Lay by all nicety and prolixious blushes,
That banish what they sue for: redeem thy brother
By yielding up thy body to my will,
Or else he must not only die the death,
But thy unkindess shall his death draw out
To ling'ring sufferance.

For the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there
live we as merry as the day read more

For the heavens, he shows me where the bachelors sit, and there
live we as merry as the day is long.