William Shakespeare

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.

Mort de ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes.

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, read more

From women's eyes this doctrine I derive: They sparkle still the right Promethean fire; They are the books, the arts, the academes, That show, contain, and nourish all the world. -Love's Labour 's Lost. Act iv. Sc. 3.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

You play the spaniel,
And think with wagging of your tongue to win me.

Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?

Is the sun dimmed, that gnats do fly in it?

O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of read more

O, a kiss
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge!
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss
I carried from thee dear; and my true lip
Hath virgined it e'er since.