Under the colour of commending him I have access my own love to prefer; But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. William Shakespeare
All the world is a stage, And all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and entrances; Each man in his time plays many parts. See image William Shakespeare
How far that little candle throws its beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world. See image William Shakespeare