playwright and actor

Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing them to thy rest!  Ah me, how weak a thing The heart of woman is!  Dar’st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension, And the poor beetle that we tread upon In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant … Read more

My love is deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, both are infinite.  I had rather be a toad, and live upon the vapor of a dungeon than keep a corner in the thing I love for others uses.  Too much to know is to know naught but fame.  Crowns have … Read more