Ay me! for aught that I could ever read, Could ever hear by tale or history, The course of true love never did run smooth. But, either it was different in blood,- Or else it stood upon the choice of friends,- Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it.
William ShakespeareThis was the noblest Roman of them all. All the conspirators, save only he,Did that they did in envy of Caesar;He only, in a general honest thoughtAnd common good to all, made one of them. His life was gentle, and the elementsSo mixd in him that Nature might stand upAnd say to all the world, This was a man!
William ShakespeareHaply for I am black, And have not those soft parts of conversation That chamberers have; or for I am declined Into the vale of yearsโyet thatโs not muchโ Sheโs gone. I am abused, and my relief Must be to loathe her. O curse of marriage, That we can call these delicate creatures ours And not their appetites! I had rather be a toad And live upon the vapor of a dungeon Than keep a corner in the thing I love For othersโ uses. Yet โtis the plague of great ones; Prerogatived are they less than the base. โTis destiny unshunnable, like death.
William Shakespeare