Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart, and bids it break.
More Quotes from William Shakespeare:Good Mistress Page, for that I love your daughter
In such a righteous fashion as I do,
Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners,
I must advance the colours of my love,
And not retire.
But died thy sister of her love, my boy?
Graze on my lips, and if those hills are dry, Stray lower where the pleasant fountains lie
In nature is a tyranny; it hath been
The untimely emptying of the happy throne,
And fall of many kings.
What's more to do,
Which would be planted newly with the time,
As calling home our exiled friends abroad
That fled the snares of watchful tyranny,
Producing forth the cruel ministers
Of this dead butcher and his fiend-like queen,
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands
Took off her life; this, and what needful else
That calls upon us, by the grace of Grace
We will perform in measure, time, and place.
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