William Shakespeare

(Portia:) A quarrel ho! already! What's the matter?
(Gratiano:) About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
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(Portia:) A quarrel ho! already! What's the matter?
(Gratiano:) About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring
That she did give me, whose posy was
For all the world like cutler's poetry
Upon a knife--'Love me, and leave me not.'

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.

Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd,
Doth burn the heart to cinders, where it is.

My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow.

My plenteous joys,
Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves
In drops of sorrow.

Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves. -The Merchant of Venice. Act read more

Ships are but boards, sailors but men: there be land-rats and water-rats, water-thieves and land-thieves. -The Merchant of Venice. Act i. Sc. 3.

The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
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The setting sun, and music at the close,
As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance more than things long past.