I know a place where the wild thyme blows, where oxlips and the nodding violet grows.
William ShakespeareAnd by that destiny to perform an act Whereof what's past is prologue, what to come In yours and my discharge.
William ShakespeareBut whate'er you are That in this desert inaccessible, Under the shade of melancholy boughs, Lose and neglect the creeping hours of time; If you have ever looked on better days, If ever been where bells knoll'd to church, If ever sat at any good man's feast, If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear, And know what 'tis to pity and be pitied, Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. . . .
William Shakespeare