William Shakespeare

All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit read more

All is not well.
I doubt some foul play. Would the night were come!
Till then sit still, my soul. Foul deeds will rise,
Though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes.

That 's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.

That 's a perilous shot out of an elder-gun. -King Henry V. Act iv. Sc. 1.

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

Is it not strange that desire should so many years outlive performance?

The birds chaunt melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green read more

The birds chaunt melody on every bush,
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun,
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind,
And make a checkered shadow on the ground;
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit,
And whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds,
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns,
As if a double hunt were heard at once,
Let us sit down and mark their yellowing noise;
And after conflict such as was supposed
The wand'ring prince and Dido once enjoyed,
When with a happy storm they were surprised,
And curtained with a counsel-keeping cave,
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms,
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber,
Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodious birds
Be unto us as is a nurse's song
Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.