William Shakespeare

From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
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From you have I been absent in the spring,
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything,
That heavy Saturn laughed and leapt with him;
Yet nor the lays of birds, not the sweet smell
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,
Could make me any summer's story tell,
Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew:
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.
Yet seemed it winter still, and you away,
As with your shadow I with these did play.

How far that little candle throws its beams;
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

How far that little candle throws its beams;
So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part
I have saved my life.

The better part of valor is discretion, in the which better part
I have saved my life.

You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.