William Shakespeare Quote

She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought;
And with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief. Was not this love indeed?


Twelfth Night (1601) act 2, sc. 4, l. [112]


She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And with a green and yellow...

She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And with a green and yellow...

She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And with a green and yellow...

She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek: she pined in thought; And with a green and yellow...