William Shakespeare

Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
When read more

Nor do we find him forward to be sounded,
But with a crafty madness keeps aloof
When we would bring him on to some confession
Of his true state.

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner.

Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner.

Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was for read more

Nobly he yokes
A smiling with a sigh, as if the sigh
Was that it was for not being such a smile;
The smile mocking the sigh that it would fly
From so divine a temple to commix
With winds that sailors rail at.

I have a kind of alacrity in sinking.

I have a kind of alacrity in sinking.

Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.

Sweets to the sweet! Farewell.